


Progress

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime
Genre: AU, Budding Relationship, Flirty, Fluff, Hint of Angst, Injury, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slow Build, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tactile, Touch, Wings, eventual interfacing, red energon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: A slight AU explored in the 'what if' scenario. What if Starscream had aligned himself with the Autobots, as an affiliate.
Starscream, as a rogue and possibly last of the Seeker race, has been aiding the Autobots for his own benefit as much as anything. But in a full year of his liaison, something has been developing between himself and Optimus, and it is quite clear they share an interest in more than the support they trade each other.





	1. Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was pretty experimental, and based completely on the ideas, fan-spewing and general perviness generated with my other partner-in-crime, Van. We were brainstorming some pretty interesting ideas, so I took some and threw them into this short fic. 
> 
> Ahead is a scene I pictured, like a glimpse into a year from Season 2. I just wanted to write interaction between Optimus and Starscream, and how they handle this new 'thing' between them. Starscream as the last Seeker was an angsty detail we both loved XD and the bond severity is a long-suppressed head canon.

The aperture of the portal split a circle of green into the Earth wilderness, and from its shimmering fabric stepped its passenger. Birds had already taken flight around him, startled by the abrupt sound.

Optimus tracked the flight path of a colorful bird, momentarily caught by its beautiful feathers as it took off in a flurry, its wings beating fitfully but its trajectory smooth and controlled. The groudbridge closed, and he turned his optics to the location, allowing a brief moment of appreciation at the ravine that stretched out below him. From his elevation on the massif, he could see miles and miles of rich Earth vegetation and water, sparkling at him from beneath the bright solar body that the planet orbited. He looked away, into the forest that surrounded him. He was as tall as many of the trees, but there were still plenty that dwarfed him.

“I suppose Earth is host to _some_ notable views,” came the voice of his liaison. Starscream stepped from the foliage of the trees out onto the edge of the massif with Optimus, overlooking the ravine with reluctant approval. The expression disappeared almost as soon as he had come to a halt, replaced with his usual haughty sneer. “Though, nothing compared to the skylines of Vos during the height of _our_ sun.”

Optimus registered the tiny twitch of his wings, a motion that he would not have noticed several months ago during the start of this agreement. He had come to recognize various meanings in these body languages, and although they were very often sub conscious, Starscream had steadily become a source of curiosity because of them. Optimus had never felt interested in another bot before, but the longer the Autobots continued this mutual accord with the ex-Decepticon, the more he found himself intrigued. Starscream was perhaps the most multi-layered individual he had encountered yet, despite his best and often nasty attempts to disguise it.

“You did not stay long enough after the fight for Ratchet to check for injuries,” Optimus stated, his gaze steady on the flyer, watching his face.

Starscream scoffed. “Unlike you _Autobots_ I don’t require cossetting after _every_ little skirmish,” he replied snootily, shooting a look at Optimus before directing his optics back to the ravine.

Optimus took his attitude in stride. Their ‘skirmish’ had been a heated battle over an energon pit, in a location known as Korea. The Decepticons had uncovered a ‘goldmine’, as Miko had referred to it, and the Autobots had quickly followed the readings, armed with a Decepticon-brand frequency disruptor, courtesy of their rogue associate. It had been a good example of how this strange cooperation between Autobots and Starscream could work; the terrain had been very open, with little shelter from incoming fire. Especially from the air. They had suffered an onslaught of attacks - until _their_ air support arrived. Within minutes Starscream had picked off half the squad and had successfully redirected the other half’s attention. It allowed enough time for the Autobots to dispense with the grounders, and raid what they could of the mine before reinforcements were eventually sent. In the hurried treks to and from their groundbridge, Optimus had left his Autobots and aided Starscream in taking out the rest of the flyers, but almost as soon as he joined the fray Starscream had been hit. There was no doubt in the Prime’s mind that he heard the shot connect. However, after the drones had been taken care of and the energon taken away, Starscream rejected Optimus’ invitation into the base, and sped away.

Now, Optimus sent his optics scanning over Starscream’s frame, searching for the injury he knew he had gained. There, on the thin panel at his back, to the side of his wing, was a large charred mark and a dried streak of energon.

“Perhaps,” Optimus replied. “But you _do_ require medical assistance.”

Starscream noticed the direction of his gaze and scowled, angling towards the Prime so his injury shifted from view. “It’s barely a scratch. My own systems will repair it.”

Optimus was silent as he tried to understand this attitude. It was not in Starscream’s character to refuse any perks of their agreement, thus his current behavior was rather curious, if not confusing. Optimus watched him carefully; the way Starscream shifted beneath his gaze, avoided his optics as though he was… what was that? Shame? Why would Starscream feel shame for this injury? This was the same mech who, during their first bumpy weeks into their agreement, made a minor scratch on his wing seem like life or death. He had no shortest of melodrama if it could gain him benefits. So why now did he seek to do the opposite?

“Let me see,” Optimus requested. Never ordered. Starscream was not one of his soldiers, and had been a difficult and trying associate at best. He had been too proud to follow a leader he once saw beneath him. But that was many months ago. Optimus had been patient, and eventually Starscream had acknowledged the Autobots as equals. Acknowledged Optimus as a worthy individual. It had taken time and careful stepping, but now… now there was something beyond the stage of respect. A stage wherein Autobot and ex-Decepticon found themselves at a different level of association that neither could have foreseen. A new and thrilling fabric wove between them, drawing them nearer, knitting their time together with loose threads. Optimus felt like those threads were slowly being pulled tighter together.

The Seeker’s eyes darted to him, as though wary the Prime might reach out, and Optimus had to wonder if he had suggested something taboo in Seeker etiquette. Starscream adopted his usual mask of casual indifference, but there was a tense hold to his wings that caught Optimus’ attention.

“There is nothing to see,” he argued dismissively, looking away at the ravine. “Seekers heal quickly. We’re resilient.”

Optimus noted the pride in his voice. Yes, Starscream had often boasted of his Seeker heritage, but there was always something else lining the fringe of his inflections, something longing. Another layer he kept deeply hidden. A layer that, perhaps with time and more patience, might be coaxed from its depths.

“Even the most resilient do not have to suffer pain needlessly.”

Starscream looked back at him, a strange expression playing across his faceplate. His brow furrowed and twitched as though choosing a response and then rejecting it, optics flitting between Optimus’. His wings twitched yet again. Finally he huffed, “I was in no such pain.” He turned his gaze deliberately back to the view with a touchy expression, wings tightening behind him.

It was then Optimus deciphered this strange behavior – or at least, deduced a possible reason. His experience around the Seeker had taught him to identify certain indicators of moods. And in the most recent weeks of their strange development, Starscream had projected some new and unique tics. Reserved, it seemed, just for Optimus.

“Starscream,” he rumbled softly, a smile in his voice.

At his name, Starscream’s optics flickered to him, drawn to his alluringly gentle tone.

“You need not adopt bravado merely to impress me.”

The wings flared in both surprise and affront, though the latter may have been a façade. He quickly tamed his wayward limbs and adopted his default sneer, the one in which he chose to hide all genuine emotion. “I do not try to _impress_ you,” he retorted with a higher pitched tone. His words came out in a fluster no matter how he schooled his expression, revealing to Optimus what he suspected anyway. “Delusional _Prime_.”

Though there was no proof upon his face, Optimus was smiling within. “Then let me inspect the damage, as I would for any of my trusted associates.”

Starscream’s frame paused; his wings flickered involuntarily, staring into the Autobot as though waiting for the deceit to reveal itself in those bright blue circles. It was not the first, nor would it be the last time Optimus had referred to Starscream in such a valuable way, and yet each time the Seeker’s mistrust reared itself, scrutinizing the deception he had trained himself to find. He never found it. And with each occurrence his suspicion receded just a little bit faster. Months and months of building comradery had not weened away his paranoia completely, but through Optimus’ tailored conduct it had been progressively assuaged.

Stepping a small pace closer, Optimus waited once again, but his proximity drew Starscream’s face to look up a little more. It was encouraging rather than intimidating, like it would have been with Megatron. Optimus had learned that, due to recent developments, Starscream reciprocated better to a caring graze of his EM field rather than words in situations such as these. Likely, he guessed, because he received no such contact from the Decepticons, and certainly no positivity from his leader. It had been an experimental change to his life, one that had been initially received with repulsion and then wariness, leading to tolerance and acceptance, until finally Starscream responded with his own rough, uncertain field. In the times since, Optimus had realized the Seeker was not the only one who had changed.

Finally, after a battle of indecision, Starscream snarled, though his ire was not directed at the Autobot. He glared at the ravine. “I should not have gained an injury during a simple mission such as that!” His bottom jaw jutted forward, stewing in his own admonishment. “The task was simple. I am the greatest Seeker and yet I was shot by a mere _drone_. I have become rusty!”

Optimus watched patiently. Of course, this had all been a matter of pride. Starscream had once taken his reputation as the fastest Seeker very seriously, and he still did. Despite being the last of his kind; the only Seeker confirmed online in the universe. But he always referred to his race in the present tense, as though denying their extinction for his own mental welfare. In this, Optimus could only listen; he could not console, because Starscream did not respond well to comfort, it was too foreign. Perhaps in time Starscream may confide in him, but until then, as the Matrix barer _and_ as an Autobot, he would protect the last Seeker with his full capability – a task made complicated by Starscream’s reclusive nature and the insistence that he remain outside the Autobot base. _Free._ Optimus’ objective to convince him into the safety of their adopted silo was slow going, but he persisted. His first time suggesting it had been met with derision; Starscream, once Air Commander and Second in Command would not share a dirty Human base with _grounders_. The offers since had been refused, but each time with less acidity and scorn. Slowly, he was being swayed, and Optimus knew it was a matter of time before Starscream saw the benefits of living in the silo. Of living closer to him.

“You are not the only veteran with a casualty,” Optimus replied lightly, relating, angling his large shoulder to show the recent weld marks Ratchet had done.

Starscream eyed the red plating. “ _You_ are not one of the fastest Cybertronians,” he countered sulkily, turning a pout on the scenery below.

“No, I am not,” Optimus agreed easily, straightening back into his usual stance. “But I am well versed in other areas of conflict.” He paused a beat. “Such as sparring…” He let the insinuation hang in the muggy air.

Starscream glanced at him again. “If you’re suggesting I need to _train_ with you to hone my abilities to their former excellence, then _I_ suggest you rethink your idea. Might I remind you the speeds in which I can attain and you cannot.”

“Speed is not the only skill you possess, Starscream, nor is it the one that needs refining. You have no opponents of equal speed to outmatch, therefore your efforts should be concentrated on the element of fight, not flight.” Optimus allowed a second between his words. “I do not need to catch you in order to spar with you.”

Starscream was silent in the ensuing calm between them, contemplative as he considered the options he had. Optimus watched, cataloguing his body language, filing away the little movements that were imperceptible to those not looking closely. In his frame, he told Optimus that his persuasions were working.

“You have not had a sparring partner in a long time,” the Prime said gently, a careful statement.

Starscream looked back at him sharply, but there was an edge of pain shining in his optics, a flash of recollection; his trine probably at the forefront of his mind. Optimus did not intend to let him wallow in torment; Seekers whose trines had been torn apart were left mentally and physically crippled, and in some extreme cases, terminated themselves. The severity of a bond was unfathomable, and it was clear the death of Starscream’s trine mates had damaged him noticeably. There was a period of time during the war in which Starscream had been missing in action, and his reappearance had brought with it a sense of tragedy; Optimus remembered it.

“I would be honored if you accept me as your sparring partner,” he said, before painful memories could resurface and undo his work.

At his words, the Seeker eyed him once again. Of course he knew Optimus’ ploy, his clever words appealing to his arrogance, but he knew what the Prime truly meant. In the months together, it wasn’t just Optimus who had gained understanding of the other.

“I _suppose_ it might benefit us both,” the Seeker mused aloud, adopting his mask of indifference. He pretended to consider it, a playful act rather than a spiteful one, accompanied by a sly glance that Optimus found quite attractive. “Very well, I accept this additional agreement.”

Optimus allowed himself a small flicker of victory. When one deals with Starscream, one is entitled to such. He shifted his weight but did not step any closer. “Then, for my own peace of mind, please allow me to check your injury.”

Starscream slanted his head back, as though looking at Optimus with contempt; but the Prime knew better. A smirk slid across Starscream’s face plates. “Very well. It is because of you I acquired this new battle scar, anyway. It’s only fitting you should assess it.”

As he shifted to show his back, Optimus considered his words as he let his optics travel down to the burn mark. “Explain,” he requested, gently nudging Starscream’s left wing inward to remove the shadow it cast on his plating.

Starscream cast a sultry look over his shoulder, but something else lingered in his gaze. “Your prowess in battle is rather distracting…”

Optimus caught his gaze with his own, holding it as something unspoken passed between them. What that an admission of attraction? Optimus found himself pleased by it. The Seeker’s optics were watching him carefully. For his reaction, Prime realized. 

“As is your grace in the air,” he returned, his voice rolling through the calm between them. He purposely glanced at his recent weld before reaffirming his focus on the flyer. Starscream’s optics brightened and his wings expanded, bumping his companion’s servo. A pleased reaction. Optimus turned his attention back to the wound, carefully brushing away a small crumb of debris that had snagged on the jagged edge within the wound. The Seeker’s shoulder tensed slightly, but quickly relaxed; an action that was evidence of his growing trust. 

The wound was not serious, but it would require a clean and Ratchet’s assessment before Optimus would be satisfied. It didn’t look painful, but nor did it look painless, perhaps because of how thin the plating was and how large an area the burn had covered. Optimus let his optics wander from the wound, shifting appreciatively across the Seeker’s spinal struts and to the smooth convex of the thruster casing nestled between the wings. There were no doubts Starscream’s frame was very alluring; every feature was attractive.

On a bold, instinctive urge, Optimus slid his large servo gently across the thruster, caressing the smooth surface.

Starscream gave a minute reaction to the touch, but stilled, feeling the Prime’s careful, exploratory touches. As the Autobot’s hand broached higher and around, he opened his wings wider, inviting more touch.

Optimus complied, running his thumb gently down to where the large flight limbs joined, tracing the thrusters seam slowly. Beneath his touch Starscream’s spine bowed just slightly, his helm turning to his shoulder as though watching Optimus from his peripheral vision. The Prime explored further, mesmerized by the simple contact, the pleasing sensation of another’s metal at his fingertips. He let his gentle touch roll down the edge of the thruster to the base of a main wing.

Starscream’s stance straightened, and something almost inaudible left his vocalizer. Optimus could not help but wonder what these touches really meant to his culture, and what he was allowing for Optimus’ ignorance of them.

He carefully pressed his palm against the wing and slowly drew it along the wide pane, taking note of the tiny, imperceptible shiver that traversed his companion. He always held the knowledge that fliers’ wings were incredibly sensitive, but that was the extent of his information. The flight frames of the Autobots had been lost before the war came to Earth, thus it had been a long time since Optimus had dealt with their needs and natures.

“Is this acceptable?” He murmured into their quiet, his voice rolling through the air as more a vibration than a sound.

Starscream’s optics, which had closed at some point, peeked open a sliver. “Yes…” He replied in an equally air-borne voice.

A pleasant feeling enveloped Optimus’ spark; Starscream was never so passive, so trusting to another’s servos. He was resigning himself to the sensations, surrendering to his long-denied relief. It was both a gratifying moment and a testing one; Optimus could not risk damaging this trust placed on him, he had to tread carefully.

All movements carefully deliberate, Optimus brought his servo down to the bottom edge of the wing, noting the increase in awareness radiating from Starscream; evidently a sensitive area. He circled a thumb over the aileron, and was rewarded with a noise that otherwise wouldn’t have been heard, but in the stillness of their moment, Optimus caught it, felt moved by it. A simple utterance that escaped Starscream’s control. It spoke of how intimate an area his aileron was, and for a second Optimus considered pulling away, his presence an intrusion. But Starscream would have done that, there was no doubt. He hadn’t moved. 

Encouraged, Optimus slid his wide thumb over the trailing panel and softly rubbed the edge.

Starscream bowed again, a hitched humming sound escaping his vocalizer. Optimus saw his fingers flex and his optics close. Judging by the expression on his faceplate, this was a sensor-rich area, a pleasure spot, and he hadn’t experienced this sort of touch in a long time. The wing pressed subtly into his caress, seeking more, but before Optimus could indulge him, he seemed to shake himself from whatever daze he had fallen into and stepped out of the Autobot’s hand.

“I… think it’s best if we discontinue that,” the Seeker said, turning around but looking elsewhere. He sounded strained, as though fighting to modulate his vocalizer.

To Optimus, Starscream’s stance blared restiveness; his posture was curved in on itself just a little more than was normal. His wings were heavy, not quite righting themselves, and by the flickering glances unable to land on his face, the Prime could only guess he had broached into an intimate area.

“Where’s my energon?” Starscream asked, changing topic and glancing at Optimus’ empty servos. His wings straightened to their natural position and he assumed a more relaxed pose. “I do hope this isn’t the part in our arrangement where you cut me off.”

To anyone not familiar with Starscream, his tone would sound cold and aloof, but Optimus had learned to recognize his subtly, his dry wit. There was a light note to his words and a small, expectant smile that had begun to surface in Optimus’ presence.

From his subspace, he retrieved a cube of energon. Starscream’s long talons took it, and he raised an eye ridge.

“You haven’t cut me _off_ , you’ve cut me _down_ ,” he said satirically. “Where’s the rest of my half?”

Optimus pinged Ratchet for a groundbridge as he smiled at Starscream. “It seems I have inadvertently left the rest of your energon at the base.” On cue, a glowing green portal opened exactly where it had deposited him. Optimus held out a hand to it beckoningly. “If you would care to join me, you may collect the rest.”

A smirk fought its way onto Starscream’s face plate as he gave Optimus a look for his ‘forgetfulness’. “Not one of your most subtle attempts to get me into the Autobot base,” he drawled, subspacing his energon cube.

“But an effective one.”

Starscream’s smirk dimpled one side of his face plate, and he stepped up to Optimus. “I do hope your sparring sessions will be more refined.”

Optimus merely smiled again. Together, they disappeared through the groundbridge.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another self-indulgent chapter. Optimus and Starscream meet on the cliffs overlooking the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudo's on the previous chapter. There's no plotline thus far, it's made up as I go, but maybe in future I'll start to bring some more content in.

Optimus cast his gaze across the ocean and modulated his audials, to better appreciate the sensory input. The powerful waves crashed rhythmically against the base of the cliff he stood upon, a mighty but soothing roar. The wind carried the fringes of spray to his plating, setting off his tactile sensors, delivering the scent of salt and minerals. He could hear the swell and retreat of water all around the costal cliffs, the random, distant cawing of seabirds and the wind swirling wherever its nature dictated. Far from the dry, red land of Jasper. The Prime turned his optics across the ocean, where the sun was embarking on its journey to the horizon. Clouds gathered their pallets, ready to dowse the sky with promising colors.

The sound of a jet engine joined the ambience, gravitating to his location. Starscream unfolded gracefully midair, his momentum bringing him to a perfect distance of several meter next to the Autobot. His pedes thumped against the grass and he straightened himself out, optics magnetized to Optimus before and above anything else.

“You wish to discuss something?” He questioned, his tone betraying nothing of his mood or manner, strangely void of any quality that he was known for. But no sooner had he began his first syllable than his wings began to twitch. Once. Twice. Three times before they drew Optimus’s sole attention and he turned his head inquisitively. Starscream cast a shallow frown at the ocean before them. “The air is concentrated here,” he provided by way of explanation. His wings gave another motion against the winds, his right one angled independently to the other – something Optimus hadn’t known they could do. “Intense ion concentrations from this planet’s water saturate the air.”

Optimus did not take into consideration what a distraction the location might have on Starscream. “Does it impair your concentration?”

Starscream turned a mild sneer on him and his wings reset themselves. “Of course not. I’d have been a poor energon Seeker if my sensors were overwhelmed by the slightest of things.” He shifted his weight to one leg, thigh curving aesthetically. “Tell me what we are doing here, Optimus.”

Optimus allowed a small smile to pull his lip plates, and the effect seemed to ease Starscream’s impatience. He turned his blue optics on the horizon. “We are watching.”

Starscream followed his gaze, looking out over the expanse of water. The sun was setting. It sat on the horizon line like a ball of brilliant fire, waiting for their attentions before beginning its final descent. The clouds had splashed their most beautiful colors across the sky, strips of gold lining their silhouettes, pinks tinging their edges, dusky purples accenting their shapes. The surface of the vast ocean took their images and reflected them, the sun the center of all.

Optimus stole a glace down to his right, gauging Starscream’s expression. It was neutral, but that spoke more than it should have. The sun’s last bursts of golden light touched his silver chassis, shining across his metals. He became the canvas, like the clouds, painted with the sunset. His wings glowed, motionless against the data-rich winds still thrumming against them.

“Beautiful,” Optimus rumbled quietly.

It was more the direction of his voice than the word that drew Starscream’s gaze back to him. He paused, looking down at his reflective chassis before returning his optics to Optimus’. “I don’t need a sunset for that,” he drawled.

“No…” Optimus agreed.

Starscream’s smirk faltered. He hadn’t really expected agreement.

Optimus shifted, reaching out slowly, deliberately, until his fingertips touched the Seeker’s chest, tracing the colors playing across him. He trailed his large digits along the surface metal, following a line of sunlight as it guided him to the Seeker’s glass cockpit. Starscream watched him, fixated, wings static. Optimus drew his fingers back up, rising to the jut of Starscream’s sharp jawline. They had tested their boundaries twice before, but each time was thrilling, each time was new and telling. Optimus let his fingers cup Starscream’s chin, brushing a thumb across the transformation seam from his bottom lip plate. The Seeker held his gaze, strangely transfixed. Optimus hadn’t realized they were mere feet apart, EM fields grazing. Starscream’s was tame, but buzzing with energy. He was excited. But there was something else beneath, something hesitant. Their fields were identical.

“Tell me if you are uncomfortable,” Optimus murmured.

“I should tell you to get on with it.”

Optimus held back a smile. “I will not push you.”

“You wouldn’t know how.”

A pair of talons found their way to his own chassis, careful but hungry as they mimicked his caresses, exploring the broader chest, dipping into seams that sent pleasant zings through Optimus. Starscream was impatient, but even so he was holding back. He knew the damage he could cause with careless pressure, though he also knew how to manipulate those deadly claws. They trailed delicately along the flats of Optimus’ abdominal plating, tips dipping into the gaps of his segments and stirring tactile sensors that were rarely activated. He appreciated the sensations, allowed himself to revel in the touch. So long had it been since he had even experienced intimate contact. War had done away with that.

There was a pressure to the back of a knee joint and a force at his chest, and Optimus found himself falling backwards, landing with a muffled thud on the grassy earth. Starscream fell atop him, red optics gleaming with mischievousness. Instead of alarm, Optimus was amused. He found his servos curling around Starscream’s waist, supporting as the Seeker’s thighs slid apart, straddling Optimus. Plating touched and warm bolts were exchanged. Starscream was a sight to behold looking down on the Prime, wings backlit by the dying light of the sun. They were standing at an angle Optimus had come to realize as excitement, and he took a moment to register how much easier it was becoming to interpret them. On instinct, he kneaded his thumbs into the Seeker’s lateral cable and was rewarded with an approving bow.

“You thought showing me a _pretty_ event would increase my appreciation for this planet?” Starscream guessed snidely, optics lidded in that smug way of his. His talons pressed against the Prime’s chest plating as he shifted minutely, igniting both their sensor nets. “You called me here for the wrong reason. I care nothing for this planet.”

Optimus was captivated by his visage, and not at all deterred by his words. “I called you here to _share_ it with me.”

Starscream paused.

“The setting of the sun across the ocean is something I enjoy,” Optimus rumbled softly, his words floating along the winds. “I wished to share the experience. With _you_.”

Starscream considered him. It was a look had had given Optimus before, several times; always when he had been surprised by little things. Little things he shouldn’t have been surprised by. 

Kindnesses that he was not used to.

Optimus repeated his thumbing along Starscream’s waist, watching patiently as the Seeker took in his words and intentions, rolled them around his processor and decided the Prime was telling him the truth. Sentimentality was something he was adjusting to. There was no deception here.

He cast his red optics back at the fading light, scrutinizing the sunset, trying to determine its appeal to the Prime. What touched Optimus’ spark what that there was no negativity in his expression; he appeared to be genuinely studying the event. Progress came in small but noticeable changes, the Prime mused.

Starscream’s optics slid to their corners, back down to him. “What is it about this world that _Autobots_ find so fascinating? The colors? They are nothing compared to the spectrum of Cybertron’s atmospheric beauty.”

“I do not compare the differences in the planets,” Optimus explained, “but appreciate the aspects that make them unique.”

Starscream scoffed. “Earth is _unique_ , alright.”

Despite this, Optimus smiled, squeezing his grip a fraction, caressing the Seeker’s slim waist. “You may not think much of this planet, but it has been our home for some years now.” He paused, optics steady on the face above him. “I am glad our war brought us here…”

Again, Starscream gave a distasteful sneer. “What about this mudball of a planet could you possibly be _glad_ for?”

“It delivered _you_ to us…”

There was that look again; surprised by the Prime’s words, the sentimentality weighted in them. Starscream said and did nothing, his EM field tinged with a trace of discomfort. His usual reactions of derision or contempt had been slowly dwindling in his time alongside Optimus. At the renewed rubbing on his waist, he blinked, spell broken.

“How you Autobots have survived _this_ long against the Decepticons with _that_ mentality is a mystery,” he finally said, hiding his uneasiness behind his usual verbose charm. 

“’That mentality’ is what sets us apart from the likes of Megatron,” Optimus told him. “It is a strength you underestimate.”

Starscream narrowed his optics skeptically. “I cannot see how you would utilize such a peculiarity for strength.”

Optimus smiled. “You will in time.”

The Seeker hmph’ed. “You seem optimistic that this partnership will endure indefinitely.”

“I am.”

Starscream looked down at him silently, contemplatively. Then a sly smirk spread across his sharp features. “Confident of your magnetism, aren’t you?” He flexed his pelvic array, rocking his hips against the Autobot’s briefly.

Optimus’s lines tightened at the sensations. “I am confident in our effective partnership.”

Starscream’s plating deflated a little. “You know how to make an ex-‘con feel special…”

Something warm tickled Optimus’s spark chamber. “I had hoped sharing this sunset would achieve that.”

“I have higher standards than Earth-gazing.”

“Yes,” Optimus agreed, undeterred. “Unfortunately, I cannot show you Vos, or anything remnant of our home world. However…” He turned his optics upwards, past Starscream’s watching visage. “I can show you _something_ familiar.”

Starscream followed his gaze and looked up. The sun had set, taking with it the last rays of light save for the glow on the horizon. And from the darkness and the cloudless sky, twinkling lights began to shine down on them.

“The stars are beautiful whatever planet we may be on.”

Starscream didn’t look at him, but there was a pause in his frame that indicated his acknowledgement. He gazed at the stars with forced nonchalance.

“Hmph, not exactly the brightest of stars,” the Seeker murmured.

Optimus considered a particularly sentimental pun as it surfaced in his processor, but reframed from saying it. “If you truly do not enjoy them, I will not ask you to join me in the future.”

“I didn’t say that,” Starscream argued, looking back down. The smirk returned to his lip plates and his talons curled against Optimus’ chest. “I have plenty of other views to enjoy.”

“Then perhaps I will extend all future invitations.” The Autobot renewed his gentle stroking.

“I _might_ accept them,” the Seeker toyed, a wry smirk curling naturally on his faceplate.

“I hope you will,” Optimus responded. He sent his large palms gliding confidently along the length of Starscrean’s torso, tightening his grip just enough to cause pleasant feedback. He received a rewarding hum. Will you return with me to the base?”

“So soon?”

“No, not yet.” Optimus repeated his motions, watching as Starscream’s spine bowed and relaxed in time with him. Sinuous, sensual movements. “We have plenty of star gazing to do.”

“ _You_ can star gaze, I’m quite happy with this position,” the Seeker replied, running his own servos slowly across Optimus’ chassis. 

“As am I.” 

Something akin to contentment flashed across Starscream’s faceplate. Not quite, but almost. Optimus would see to it that, eventually, contentment would become a part of him, a part of them all. With this relationship progressing, he felt that little bit closer, himself.

“And yes. I will return with you to your base.”

Optimus smiled.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek at 5 months later into the Autobot base, and Starscream's recent residence there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More questionable fluff and self-indulgence.

“Rrgh! Careful!” Starscream growled petulantly, braced on Ratchet’s medical berth with a leg in the doctor’s grip.

“If you would stop _squirming_ I wouldn’t keep catching you!” Ratchet shot back, tightening his grip on the Seeker’s ankle joint as he used one of his medical tools as a makeshift pick. He turned his glare back to his task, digging out the compacted sludge that had cemented into the trenches of Starscream’s pedes.

Optimus set down the crate of raw energon they had returned with as the groundbridge deactivated, sealing them off from their latest raid. Bulkhead trudged past him, splattering dirt with every step. Bumblebee and Arcee had already secured first rounds in the wash racks. It was safe to say they were all extremely filthy.

“Ow!”

Optimus watched his medic work his way into the dirt clotting up the Seeker’s pedes. None of the grounders had such deep treads and thus their dirt was more easily washed away. Unfortunately, Starscream was not built for this planet. Ratchet had to chisel out the obstruction carefully.

“What were you doing, _playing_ in the mud?” Ratchet chastised, chipping at the organic debris. “I’d have thought by now you’d know where _not_ to walk.”

“I wasn’t _walking_ ,” Starscream snarled moderately, optics on his foot as though Ratchet might accidentally take his heel off. “I _landed_. Right into a swamp of liquid _dirt!_ ”

Optimus approached them, rubbing dried mud from his servos. His own plating was coated. Their mining operation had occurred during a torrential rain storm, in a particularly boggy area. It was incredibly lucky the mine had not collapsed long ago in such unstable terrain.

“Well next time _think_ before you land,” Ratchet grumbled, flicking the largest chunk of dirt from Starscream’s pede. “Your frame is not suited for mud, and _I’m_ the one who has to clean it.” He scraped carefully at stubborn marks still clinging to the inside heel, but Starscream jerked once again, inciting an angry hiss from one and a painful hiss from the other.

“Do not blame Starscream,” Optimus broke into their argument softly, placing a comforting palm on the Seeker’s shoulder pauldron, effectively calming his stiff twitching. “The terrain was deceptively stable in some areas.” He watched Ratchet finally scrape the worst of the dirt away. “And less so in others.”

“Other one,” Ratchet demanded, setting the pede down and taking the right one without waiting. 

“Next time I will remain in the _air_ ,” Starscream griped. He leaned sub-consciously into Optimus’ touch, gritting his denta as Ratchet did away with another heel-full. The doctor didn’t once look away until he had cleared the mass of sludge, taking advantage of Starscream’s subdued twitching. 

“There,” he finally announced, setting Starscream’s leg down and sweeping the dirt into a container to dispose. “Now wash racks, both of you. You’re messing up the base.”

Grumbling, Starscream slid from the table to his feet and moved away.

“Optimus,” Ratchet pulled his attention back before he could follow. “Here.” The doctor turned to his tool trap and produced a small brush-like object with a handle. Optimus took it with a raised eyebrow. “For those hard-to-reach joints,” Ratchet supplied. With that, he turned back to cleaning his area of loose dirt and mud smears, grumbling in much the same way as Starscream.

Optimus looked at the little brush in his hand. Its bristles were soft but firm, a perfect tool for accessing seams. He turned and followed after Starscream’s exit, leaving his own trail of dried dirt, shook loose by the vibrations of his heavy weight. Arcee and Bumblebee were just leaving the inner corridors of the silo when the Prime stepped around the corner.

“Mr Privilege all but kicked us out,” Arcee groused, her plating clean but still wet. She and Bumblebee had obviously neglected the air distributor.

Bumblebee threw in his own observation.

“He’s _always_ testy,” Arcee replied. “It’s just _dirt_.” She turned her optics on Optimus as they passed. “How you don’t run out of patience, Optimus, is beyond me.”

“Patience comes with its rewards,” he answered wisely. “Which in turn yields more patience.” He offered a glimmer of a smile.

“Well, at least _you’re_ seeing those rewards,” Arcee said brazenly, a small smile at her lip plates. Her friction with Starscream had never disappeared, but during their year and half, they had come to a professional understanding, though it was still cold and at times volatile. Optimus had no doubts that, upon learning of the nature of his and Starscream’s relationship, she had taken him aside and threatened him in her protective way. Since then, she had tolerated his presence just a little better.

Bumblebee chided her comment lightly as they began to walk away.

“What?” She said defiantly, voice fading.

Optimus finished the last length of corridor before entering the wash racks. It was a much welcomed perk of Starscream’s inclusion to the team. Specifically, to the base. With the Harbinger no longer his main residence, he had relented to the proposal to strip its facilities and reconstruct them in the Autobot base. Suffice to say, the wash racks had been well received, and perhaps played some part in everyone’s acceptance of Starscream, however small.

The room was already steamed and humid as solutions poured from the two long facets. A fine spray splattered across Optimus before he had even approached the splash zone.

“I will never get used to this organic dirt,” the Seeker complained, wings opening as wide as possible for the torrent to access his joints, before he once again flapped them rapidly, working in the solution, flinging spray everywhere. Optimus was wet even before he stepped under the flow, amused by the display. “You grounders seem to _revel_ in it.”

That was an exaggeration, but Starscream was known for them. Optimus stepped beneath the other faucet and allowed the liquid to drench him. Loose dirt slid away, but the more stubborn crusts clung. He rubbed at a spot on his leg, watching the dirt particles merge into the rivulets and disappear. Another, sudden splatter of solution bombarded his frame.

“Ugggh, I feel so contaminated,” Starscream grumbled, dipping his head directly under the downpour. His wings fluttered again and again, trying to rid themselves of the grit in his joints.

Optimus glanced at the brush still in his hand. He stepped from his own shower to Starscream’s, and placed a stilling palm on his thruster case. “Perhaps this will help,” he said, gaining the Seeker’s curiosity from over a shoulder. “Spread your wings.”

After a pause, Starscream expanded them, opening out his joints. Optimus stroked his thruster responsively, and brought the small brush to the exposed left wing ruts. He drew the bristles gently across the inner cabling.

Starscream keened suddenly, frame straightening.

Optimus stopped. “Is that uncomfortable?” He knew the answer, but he had to ask, he could have misread the Seeker’s body language.

“Do it again,” Starscream demanded.

Optimus complied, pulling the brush across the lines inside the top joint. Starscream bowed under his touch, a breathy noise issued from his vocalizer. The Prime continued, encouraged, slowly and repeatedly brushing at the top most visible of the joints, doing away with any grit that might be caught. Starscream shivered under his touch, the sensations evidently potent. Rogue utterances escaped the flyer’s control as the bristles caressed his sensitive cables. Optimus had been unaware just how receptive these were, and as he angled the fine bristles into the deeper layers, Starscream groaned almost _erotically_. His wings splayed open sharply and he was forced to brace himself on the wall as pleasure wracked his frame.

Optimus paused once again, more than a little affected by the sight and sounds. He felt oddly pleased that he was the cause of them.

For a second the pour of the solution was the only constant sound. Starscream’s talons flexed against the wall, palms planted firmly as he wrestled control of whatever charge had just overwhelmed him. His shoulders quivered. “You… certainly seem to know your way around my circuits,” he eventually drawled, his voice thick and deep. His EM field bled slowly into Optimus’, saturated with abrupt charge and a touch of embarrassment. Curious. Was he embarrassed by his extreme sensitivity? Optimus certainly had no qualms with it…

“I apologize,” he answered smoothly, warmly, a tiny smile at his plates. “I did not intend to debilitate you.” He placed a gentle palm on Starscream’s thruster, an action he had begun to do a lot lately. Simple, affectionate contact between them was growing more and more frequent.

Starscream chuckled gravelly, wings relaxing slightly as the solution cascaded down them. His shoulders loosened. “I find it _hilarious_ that you apologize…” He glanced in Optimus’ direction, red optic glinting brightly. “When others would take advantage.” He lowered his arms and stood unaided. “I don’t know whether it is a blessing or curse that such tactile feedback renders us dazed.” The same optic flashed in Optimus’ direction again, accompanied with a coy smirk. “But I can’t deny that it enhances particular _activities_ … For _both_ involved.”

Heat blossomed through Optimus’s circuits but he betrayed nothing on his faceplates. Stoic he may be, but Starscream definitely had the best chances of upturning that. And it seemed the closer they got, the more he tried.

Starscream opened out his wings more and cast a sultry look over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to finish me?”

More heat. Optimus was amused by Starscream’s way with words, and just a little by what they did to him. He stroked a short length along the Seeker’s thruster. “I think it would be unwise to provoke your sensitivity in a communal area.” He lowered his faceplate closer to Starscream’s, and dropped his voice an octave. “Brace yourself again.”

Surprise and excitement spiked through Starscream’s field as he cast a look out the side of his optic. He did as told, planting his palms on the wet wall.

Optimus smiled. But instead of touching the wings quivering in anticipation before him, he slid a slow, deliberate servo down the length of the Seeker’s leg, following into a crouch as he swirled his grip to Starscream’s pede and picked it up, setting it over his knee to access the underside. He began to work the brush into the deep tread.

“What –? You _deceiver_ ,” Starscream grumbled, excitement dissolving as he pouted down at Optimus. “I’m still charged up, you know. It’s cruel to leave me in this condition.”

“Your charge will dissipate,” Optimus rumbled fondly, brushing off the softened dirt from the inner wall of the heel.

Starscream’s wings sagged slightly. “I’d rather it _escalate_.”

Optimus cast a look up at the Seeker’s red gaze, pulsing amusement and affection through his field. He finished with the first pede and set it down, waiting for Starscream to shift his weight so he could take the other. He didn’t fail to appreciate the jut of the thigh plate when he did so.

“I still have grit in my wing joints, you know.” 

Scrubbing at a persistent clump, Optimus felt a hint of playfulness rise inside him. “I could have Ratchet remove it for you.”

Starscream shifted bodily as he groaned. “Ugh, you certainly know how to kill a mood, too.”

“He has much finer tools.”

“I want _your_ tool,” Starscream retorted, with both petulance and flirtation.

Optimus felt warmth run through him at the innuendo, and he couldn’t stop the smile pulling at his lip plates. “Ratchet will clean your joints much more efficiently,” he continued to tease.

Starscream glanced back down at him. “Perhaps he can, but I’d rather it was after you dirty them up,” he smirked.

Finished with the last bit of mud, Optimus set Starscream’s pede back down, and rose to his own, almost flush against Starscream’s back. He looked down past his chest, palm back on the Seeker’s thruster. “Now why would I do that?” He rumbled softly.

Starscream stretched his neck back to look up, somewhat, at the Autobot. “You _know_ why,” he drawled seductively. His wings fluttered. “But if you need _educating_ …” He pressed back into Optimus, slowly lifting and dropping his wings between them, the gentle friction dispersing tame sensations through them both. “I’d be more than willing to show you.”

Optimus brought his other servo up, and with a quick, methodical action, drew the little brush into the other main wing joint. Starscream stiffened beneath his touch, a surprised sound freeing from his intake, but Optimus did not intend to arousal him again. At least, no more than necessary. He directed the bristles to the smaller pair of wings and gave their joints a quick but thorough clean. 

Starscream groaned, but before he could do much else the sensations were taken away. “I didn’t think Autobots enjoyed torture,” he managed to speak through a strained vocalizer, disappointment shining on his faceplate as he threw a look at Optimus.

“Clean up,” the Prime said fondly, stepping away from the Seeker’s personal space and back to the other shower facet. “Bulkhead will need to use the wash racks after us.” Even if there was room under the showers, Bulkhead would not share with both Optimus and Starscream.

“Bulkhead’s always filthy,” Starscream mumbled, repeating his earlier actions by flapping his wings to distribute solution down his joints. “I’m sure another breem won’t kill him.”

“As I’m sure a breem was plenty of time for us,” Optimus replied warm but firm, turning off the shower faucets.

“I have to work on your sense of delinquency,” Starscream said dryly, standing under the drips from the shower head. “Forever the picture of order and justice, aren’t you?”

“If I wasn’t, perhaps we might not be here today.”

Starscream followed him to the air distributor, standing beside his taller partner as the unit blew the solution droplets from them. “Perhaps,” he conceded, true evidence to his time within the Autobots circle. “But it was my disloyalty that began the ripples of change.” Wings fluttered, presumably in reaction to the air current.

“And allowed me to act upon my sense of compassion and justice,” Optimus supplied, smiling vaguely at their trivial conversation.

Starscream’s lip plates, smirking as they were, paused for a brief moment, picking up a new train of thought. “And what are you acting on, now?” He questioned, concealing his genuine curiosity with a flirty façade.

Optimus said nothing for a few seconds, locking their gazes as the air distributor finished its cycle, leaving the air still and quiet. “Something I could not have predicted,” he answered honestly. He turned his frame to face Starscream fully, cupping the Seeker’s facial fan in a large servo. “But it is strong.”

Starscream regained his default expression, but the glimmer of something else had shone through for just a split second. “I provoke only the strongest.” He answered smugly.

A slightly wider smile edged into Optimus’ lips.

“Hey! You two finished in there?” Bulkhead’s voice rang through the silence.

The pleasantness disappeared from Starscream’s face. “At least on the Nemesis I provoked outright fear. No one would have dared disrupt my wash time.”

Optimus lowered his servo and rested it on the Seeker’s chassis, right above his spark. It was a casually intimate gesture among Cybertonians, and each time Optimus still felt a warm buzz whenever he did. “Let us help Ratchet with the energon. We have much to shift.”

“We will need a second base in which to store it all, soon,” Starscream jested throatily, his deep voice playing at the lingering warmth in Optimus’ circuits. They made towards the exit, leaving the wash racks humid for Bulkhead’s pending entrance. 

“I would welcome that situation,” Optimus smiled, warmed by more than Starscream’s exaggeration. 

“ _Then_ perhaps we can stuff the children in there, as well.”

Optimus closed his optics briefly, tickled by the Seeker’s words. “They would not stay in there for long,” he humored.

Starscream threw a look over his shoulder. “What is the expression? ‘Wanna bet’?” He grinned.

Optimus very nearly laughed.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arguments are commonplace in the Autobots with Starscream among them, but not entirely for bad reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lost a bit of steam at the end of this chapter.
> 
> Also, forgot to add in the last chapter - please check out Van's Optimus/Starscream fic based off our joint brainstorming: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8484385/chapters/19442608
> 
> T'is awesome 8-)

Two months later

 

“Starscream, why didn’t you cover me?” Arcee’s voice resounded through the base, anger dominating her tone. Optimus felt as well as heard it.

“You weren’t in immediate danger,” came the loud reply, with equal amounts of aversion. “And _I_ did not break formation _first!_ ”

“Your strategic plans don’t account for deviations or unforeseen factors!” Arce snapped back, her vocals seemingly filling the void of the groundbridge as it deactivated. “If you’d have stuck to my back I could have had that container!”

“Bulkhead was within covering proximity! I did not leave you vulnerable!”

“Hey, don’t involve _me_ in this,” Bulkhead interrupted, his heavy pede falls drawing closer.

Optimus remained still, prone on the medical berth beneath Ratchet’s tending, and his occasional huff of annoyance at the noise.

“You didn’t have to _leave_ at all!”

“Optimus needed air support!”

“No he didn’t! You flying off to him drew all the flyers after you and _to_ him!”

“Then how in the Pits of Kaon did I supposedly leave you vulnerable?”

What echoed through the silo was a very angry and frustrated snarl. Ratchet paused his mending of Optimus’ optic to glance over at the bots standing before the groundbridge strip. It wouldn’t be the first time Arcee had sent Starscream to Ratchet with a minor wound, but it had been a long time since the last.

“It’s impossible to reason with your arrogance!” She roared. “Optimus didn’t need your support, he had Bumblebee _right_ there!”

“Didn’t need my support?” Starscream parroted unkindly. “He lost an optic _with_ my support – can you imagine what state he’d be in _without_?”

The sound of a pede stomping one pace closer. Arcee’s following words had a bite to them she only employed on certain occasions. “You need to _stop_ being over-protective. In case it slipped your processor, Optimus is not a pushover. We got on just fine without you before!”

Starscream growled, a quick cover for a splutter; Arcee had touched upon an issue he was not comfortable with. “I am _not_ over-protective! I am merely –”

Bumblebee cut across him, interjecting.

Starscream rounded on him. “Trust has nothing to do with –”

“No – Bumblebee is right,” Arcee said forcefully. “You don’t trust us, but more importantly, you don’t even trust your mate! And until you finally start to rely on us, our team efforts will always be like this. A _shamble_.” With her sharp tone stinging their audials, she transformed into her vehicle mode and took off through the exit of the base.

Silence was left in her wake, until Starscream huffed, shifting on his pedes. “Any more shots? I’m still standing,” he announced acerbically.

“Starscream,” Optimus warned, finally.

Starscream huffed again.

“Go and refuel,” Ratchet ordered. “All of you. I can’t have any more shouting whilst I’m fixing Optimus’ optic.”

“C’mon,” Bulkhead’s deep rumble preceded a clang of his palm on Starscream’s thruster. Optimus almost smiled at the responding grumble as the flyer was led away. Bumblebee trotted after, pointing out marks on Bulkhead’s back, his beeps fading.

Once it was silent, Ratchet ex-vented in exasperation. “Do we know what the container was?” He asked, leaning close to Optimus’ optic with a precision-specific tool in servo.

“No,” the Prime replied, watching from the peripheral of his good optic. “The drone that removed the lid stumbled backwards before quickly sealing it. Whatever is within that vessel is not energon.”

“Hm,” Ratchet uttered, switching one tool for another, reconnecting the sensory relays. “We must be extra vigilant on our next clash with the Decepticons.”

“Indeed, and in more ways than one.”

“Hn?”

Optimus paused, recollecting as his vision returned. “There were more numbers than necessary on Starscream’s tail. Their blasters were set to stun.”

Ratchet paused, too. “Megatron wants him alive…”

“And that unnerves me more than I’d care to admit,” Optimus revealed.

Ratchet withdrew his medical tool and sat back. “All done,” he announced, before returning to their conversation. “We’ve had very few skirmishes with the Decepticons, since Starscream’s guided us to new energon deposits,” he began, setting his tools aside to be cleaned. “They must realize that, and Megatron might very well take new measures to ensnare his ex-Commander.”

“Yes,” Optimus agreed gravely, sitting up slowly as his systems registered his new repairs. “With our confrontations now less frequent, I fear he will employ an aggressive tactic in order to capture Starscream.” He swung his legs from the medical berth and stood. His fresh repairs felt a fraction different against his new orientation. They would soon integrate flawlessly, though. “I must be prepared for anything.”

Ratchet inclined his head just so. “We,” he corrected. When Optimus looked at him, he continued. “ _We_ must prepare for anything. As _difficult_ and _arrogant_ as he may be, and despite his… blemished past, he is your mate – however in Primus’ name that happened – and as such is one of us. We must all prepare for anything.”

Optimus placed a palm on Ratchet’s orange shoulder, gratitude heavy in his contact. “Thank you, old friend.” It had been wearisome, to say the least, assimilating Starscream into the team. He was not the easiest mech to befriend, nor get along with, but with both sides making adjustments and compromises they had managed to accept the situation.

“And he _is_ useful,” Ratchet added, reluctantly. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

Optimus smiled. “Come, let us refuel. It is a small indulgence to have plenty of energon, but we must enjoy the little things while we can.”

//

Arcee returned late during the evening, when most of the Autobots had retired to their berth rooms. Optimus was always glad for his team’s safe return, even during harmless outings. He dismissed the notification on his internal comms log, locking his berth room door as he did so. She would find her energon ration and retire for the night, too.

“This entire area has been relatively ignored by both sides,” Starscream began from his berth, lounging against the back, a holopad in servo and a map of Earth projected before him. He had enlarged the region known as Antarctica and was studying it closely. “Considering this, it might be a good idea to divide it into segments and scout them one at a time. The atmospheric moisture shouldn’t play _too_ much havoc with my sensors, but I believe it is a wise course of action while Megatron is favoring these other areas.

Optimus moved over to the berth, climbing on to situate himself against the back. Starscream compensated by simply maneuvering himself over and between the Prime’s legs, settling his wings against Optimus’ chassis, without taking his optics off his holopad. Optimus rested a servo warmly across the Seeker’s cockpit and the other on his own leg. Comfortable.

“Agent Fowler can provide us with human settlement locations, but as I understand it, this area is vastly unpopulated,” Starscream continued. “That should make our endeavors easier.” He paused, his awareness turning from the holopad to the EM field of his partner. “What is it?”

Optimus did not immediately respond. “Arcee was not wrong, earlier.”

Starscream’s wings edged up slightly, and his helm turned to his shoulder. “About _trusting_ you?”

“You are over-protective when we are in battle.”

The wings pinched, grazing Optimus, but were quickly forced back to their casual position. “I am _not_ over-protective,” he hissed, on the defensive faster than he could fly. “That is absurd – I know full well how capable you are in battle. I would not be so foolish as to think you need _mollycoddling_.” He’d been picking up human words again, unintentionally. It was something Optimus found quite endearing. “She mistakes _vigilance_ for over-protectiveness.” He added.

Optimus curled his servo more full around Starscream’s narrow waist, releasing his field to nudge soothingly at the Seeker’s. “You may not realize you are doing it, but it has been clear in the last few battles that you have been flanking me unnecessarily. Against your own formation plans.”

“I was merely compensating for the others’ lack of focus,” Starscream argued.

“Starscream,” Optimus said patiently. His mate said nothing, so he continued, rubbing a large thumb over the Seeker’s glass. "It is quite natural to be concerned for each other during battle. I, too, am guilty of that.”

Starscream looked over his shoulder again.

“But your tactics are sound, we must trust in our team to have our backs.”

Starscream paused once again before relaxing, somewhat, into Optimus. “Perhaps _reliance_ is an issue,” he conceded slowly. “But I have not survived all these millennia by relying on anything other than my own being.”

“You no longer serve a faction that breeds malevolence, and in which cruelty is the currency,” Optimus told him, rubbing his entire palm along the smooth surface of the cockpit. “Megatron crushes any show of compassion from his ranks, believing emotion and reliance to be a weakness. He beat that into you – into all his Decepticons – throughout the years. It will take time for those teachings to fade. But they will. They are no longer fostered by his toxic environment.” Optimus drew Starscream closer, if only slightly. “You are with teammates, now. Teammates who must trust and rely on each other to survive mentally, as well as physically.”

Starscream slid a look over his pauldron. “With that sort of logic, you make it sound like even Megatron can be reformed if we just remove him from the Pit he has created.”

“I must believe even Megatron has the ability to change,” Optimus stated sincerely. Starscream knew this, but he did not share the belief. “Just as I saw the potential for good within you.”

“There _was_ no good in me,” Starscream drawled, relaxing better into his mate. He drew a talon lightly along the plating of Optimus’ thigh. “You force-fed it me in exchange for my share of energon when we were trading. Fool that I was, I didn’t expect it to have any lasting impact whatsoever…”

“Hm,” Optimus chuckled, a single reverberation of his vocalizer. “You are no fool, Starscream.” He brought his other servo to rest upon his first, comfortable upon Starscream’s cockpit. He felt the Seeker’s EM field pulse in content and coziness. Optimus enjoyed these moments together immensely.

“How kind of you to remind me.”

Optimus smiled, but after a few moments of silence, a new issue rose to the surface of his processor, and he edged his field back slightly. “The Decepticon flyers targeted you specifically, today…”

Starscream’s own field contracted just a little. “I know,” he answered, his previous playfulness gone. “Megatron wants the pleasure of ending my spark himself. And he will not make it quick.”

“He will _never_ get that opportunity,” Optimus vowed, a dark promise and a protective depth to his voice that provoked a ripple through Starscream’s field.

“My, my, now who’s protective?” The smirk had returned, it was evident in his tone.

“Alone together, in the protection of our berth, I am free to voice my concerns for you,” Optimus told him gently. “But I will inform the team of this new development, so we might all be extra vigilant.” 

“I should be lucky you’re not trying to order me from active duty,” the Seeker remarked wryly.

“As the leader of the Autobots, of this team, I cannot do that. You provide invaluable assistance, it would be tactically unwise. And you are not ultimately in danger if we are all aware of the situation…”

Starscream tilted his head at the pause, sensing. “But?”

“But as your mate, with the threat of what we have assumed…” Optimus trailed into silence for a beat, unused to asserting personal feelings into a conjectural action. “I would _not_ put you in the field…”

Starscream turned his helm back, his expression hidden. Optimus feared for a moment he had insulted him. It wasn’t particularly difficult with a mech like Starscream, but the occurrences had, thankfully, become less often as their bond grew.

Then Starscream shifted forward, onto his knees as he rotated around to face Optimus. He crossed his long arms. “Then perhaps it is a good thing you are a _leader_ above all else,” he said, his tone just shy of hostile.

Optimus’s dislodged servos hovered for a moment, before he settled them loosely around the Seeker’s waist again, silently asking forgiveness. “I am unused to the contradictory feelings of a relationship,” he began softly, holding that red gaze with his own. “As a Prime, a warrior, I am sure, and I am steadfast. I have lost countless soldiers, soldiers who I sent to their demises. But as a leader I cannot let their deaths hinder my continued guidance. War is cold, and it carries on. I must endure with it for as long as I am able… but this. _You_ …” He stalled, unable to express himself, a rare moment he was unused to. “As a partner, a mate, I must battle new doubts and feelings against those of my military. The concern I now have for you conflicts with the decisions I must make. Handling these side by side is difficult.”

Starscream tried not to look anything other than indifferent, though his field betrayed him a little. “You might have summed that up by merely stating you are an inexperienced mate.”

“We are both inexperienced with the complexities of a relationship,” the Prime told him, moving his servos in an affection manner. “Knowing how I struggle might bring to light any issues we can address.”

“You make it sound so clinical – _not_ that I mind. Quite the contrary.” Starscream tried his best not to undulate into the touches. “I have no desire to be one of those conjunx who spew their every _thought_ and _emotion_ to their partner.”

“Conjunx,” Optimus about whispered, smiling inquisitively. He felt a pulse in Starscream’s field.

“I was merely using them as an example,” the Seeker explained quickly, waving a hand dismissively at the subject. Optimus was not fooled, though.

“Have you… considered the conjunx ritual?”

Starscream’s optics darted away, narrowing to a vague point somewhere to the left, away from Optimus’. “Conjunx partners are severely disadvantaged.” Was all he said.

Optimus studied him. “How so?”

The flyer turned his gaze back to him. “Connected so _intimately_ ,” he enunciated as though Optimus needed reminding. “Anything that happens to one can be felt for the other. There is no bigger distraction and thus no bigger danger in a time of war. Frankly, I’m surprised anybot in their right mind would consider the notion. Knockout and Breakdown often felt their share of pain-filled ties. Serves them right.”

Optimus stared. “Knockout and Breakdown are bonded?” This was news to him. Big news. All this time he never figured.

Starscream stilled; he’d blurted out something he shouldn’t, it was clear on his faceplate. 

“They disguised it extremely well.”

Starscream unfroze. “Of course they did, they had to. No one knew but me, not even Megatron. He most certainly would not accept _that_.”

Optimus let the realization sink into his processor. Bonded Decepticons. Even in the Decepticon army there were those with lovers. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. It turned over in his mind, recognizing how much Knockout and Breakdown must mean to each other to risk such an action under Megatron’s rule. How close they actually were to initiate a bond. And how long ago?

“Were they happy?” He broke the silence with a tentative question.

Starscream looked surprised. “Happy?” He repeated, a sneer beginning to appear at his mouth – but paused. It disappeared as he blinked. Memories were running through his processor. “I… _suppose_ they were,” he supplied uncertainly, forcing disinterest into his tone. “’Happy’ was not among the emotions commonly felt by Decepticons,” he reminded the Prime shrewdly.

“Their feelings for one another must be extremely strong,” Optimus mused, more to himself. “To risk the dangers involved.”

“They were extremely _foolish_ ,” Starscream countered, eyeing his partner.

Optimus ceased his rubbing and met his gaze. “Do you truly think that?”

Discomfort edged into Starscream’s field before he could reign it back. He did not like the topic, he wasn’t used to discussing feelings of any nature, let alone those involving conjunx. Perhaps it was time he started to, Optimus considered. Granted, he had come a long way, but he was still poor in the ways of compassion.

“Yes,” Starscream answered, as though it was obvious.

“Why?”

Starscream withdrew a little, as though the question was redundant. “Because when one of them _snuffs_ out of being the other will be traumatically devastated – as widowed bondmates _are_. The pain could never make up for the _fleeting_ throes of _happiness_ they might share together… For there _will be_ a lot of pain for Knockout or Breakdown…”

Optimus stalled his words, sensing the strange undertone in the Seeker’s words. Then it occurred to him; he realized that Starscream may not be speaking from cold ignorance like he assumed… His trine bond had been not unlike a conjunx bond.

“I believe,” he said carefully, watching Starscream’s expression closely. “ …the risk of pain _is_ worth the untold connection of a bond…”

Silence left its mark in the wake of his words, and the Seeker studied Optimus just as carefully, scrutinizing his words.

“You’ve had your say,” Starscream finally responded, voice bordered on scathing, and strangely level for his usual vocal range. He held Optimus’ gaze hard, almost warning him not to continue. There was more he wanted to say, more he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He raised his holopad. “Now let us return to the much more _important_ matter of energon scouting.”

Optimus inclined his head, an agreeing gesture. Starscream resumed his position against the Prime’s chest, but there was a stiffness to his wings, an irritation to his field and a tightness in his words as he spoke of his plans regarding Antarctica. Optimus listened courteously, their previous conversation lingering unwanted between them. It would stay that way indefinitely.

Conversing with Starscream was always going to be an engaging prospect, no matter how much closer they got. Optimus was still learning how to navigate their strange relationship, and so, too was Starscream. But the Seeker held some deep-seated scars, and they had to be handled carefully. Optimus had much to learn about his partner, and it could not all be learnt at once.

Optimus was nothing if not patient.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus needs to familiarize himself with the touch of Starscream's frame. Completely self indulgent chapter, yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short jump this time.
> 
> This chapter is ridiculously fluff.

_Two weeks later_

 

Optimus steadied his palm, acutely aware of the pressure he was applying. He deliberately weighted his contact and then alternated between his lightest of touches, pressing across different contours. He absorbed the tactile feedback, as well as the reaction his touches produced with a dedicated processor, filing away the information diligently.

“Nnh, you’re such a _tease_ ,” Starscream half grumbled, half groaned. “I’m not made of _glass_.” 

Optimus flicked his gaze to the Seeker’s face, watching him press into the plush mesh of their new berth surface. Optimus rarely allowed such luxuries, but when Starscream proposed they had adequate materials to do just that – for _all_ Autobots – Optimus thought deeply, and relented. Now, he was secretly pleased he had. Starscream’s complaints had ceased since his comfort had been tended to.

Comfort which had then led to a suggestion, which had led to… this.

Stretched out beneath him, wings fanned attractively against the berth, Starscream pressed into his touches, silently demanding him to increase his physical attentions. He threw his arms into the berth mesh beside his helm and slid a thigh along Optimus’ side, using his alluring position to goad arousal from his partner.

He succeeded, but Optimus kept his touches light, restrained his heated field. Starscream presented a beautiful picture below him, an invitation that couldn’t have been clearer. But this was Optimus’ time, this was a discussed agreement and he would not abandon his undertaking because of his arousal.

Starscream pushed into his hands once again.

“Starscream,” Optimus reprimanded with all the affectionate authority he could blend into one tone. “This is my opportunity to familiarize myself with your body,” he reminded him, pushing Starscream’s wayward leg back down on the berth beside him. “I must do so at my pace, and in my way. As we agreed.”

Starscream gave a noise of huffy frustration. “I didn’t think one of the strongest Autobots would be so _delicate_ ,” he retorted lazily, rolling his helm back to look up at Optimus with lidded optics. His field was buzzing; Optimus’ touches were causing charge to slowly build. He had known they would, but he had thought Starscream might have reserved his composure a little bit longer. Considering Starscream was touch-starved in a way Optimus would never experience, he let the Seeker have his riposte.

The Prime continued his exploration of Starscream’s thighs. They were a thing of beauty by themselves, exquisite by shape and design, and as his palms roved around to the inner lengths, Starscream opened them out further, hips flexing into the touches. It wasn’t deliberate, but the subtle movements were enough to increase the heat throughout Optimus’ frame.

“Close your optics,” he requested softly, pausing his servos.

Starscream blinked at him, and without any verbal response did as told.

Affection pulsed through Optimus. He cast his gaze across the full picture below him. Knelt between the Seeker’s legs, he had full access to the lithe frame, and the show of trust demonstrated Starscream’s complete comfort with him. This wasn’t new, but it continued to fill Optimus with a different kind of warmth.

Setting his gaze back on the lean thighs either side of him, Optimus continued his ministrations, drawing his thumbs into the highest juncture of Starscream’s legs. This provoked a broken sigh, a restrained moan, but otherwise Starscream remained silent. Optimus caressed these areas slowly, oscillating the pressure of his grip.

“Now I know you’re teasing me,” Starscream groaned, legs shifting restlessly. His closed optics squinted in an effort to keep them so.

Optimus smiled, even if his partner couldn’t see it. He reflected it through his EM field and stroked his thumbs along the highest curve of his thighs. He was rewarded with a back arch and a stifled moan; Starscream’s field broadcasting his enjoyment of these particular caresses. Optimus took note, reading his physical reactions as well as his intangible one; it was clear his inner thighs were a sensor rich area. Even as they tightened either side of the Prime, the pleasure in the Seeker’s field was clear.

Optimus delved away, swirled his servos around to the underneath of Starscream’s thighs, gauging the sensitivity there. A small push into his palms encouraged him and he fingered the armor curving around there.

“I’m beginning to regret our agreement,” Starscream moaned, rolling his helm in the mesh. “I should have demanded you frag me into the berth to disperse the charge you’ve ramped up.”

The Prime smiled again. This session was, after all, Optimus’ choice to explore his partner’s body, and if he decided to become physical with the Seeker, he was resolved to know the flight frame better than he knew his own. Starscream had interfaced before, however long ago in the past. Optimus had not. And if not for Starscream’s growing need in their relationship, Optimus would be quite comfortable without ever engaging in physical bonding. It wasn’t a necessary component for many Cybertronian relationships, but apparently Seekers were quite the physically demanding breed when committed to a partner. And _as_ a partner, Optimus would try what he could to satisfy him, to please them _both_.

Having gained what information he wanted from the legs, Optimus ran his palms up to the small waist, encircling the entire circumference with ease. Something about the sight stirred a foreign feeling within him, a faint beat of dominance. He pushed it down in dislike, but it bothered him little; Ratchet had informed him that forging relationship with a Seeker would produce some instinctual coding. According to the medic, Seekers emit a natural tag through their field while courting, and while this relationship deviated from such a definition, Starscream’s body had reacted regardless, and Optimus’ had reciprocated. Both grounders were unsure whether the tag would have further effects on Optimus, but whatever occurred, he would embrace it.

“Harder,” Starscream demanded, squirming beneath his mate. “You’re too _gentle_.”

Optimus tasted the quality of the Seeker’s EM field, amused by the contradiction to what he was feeling and to what he wanted Optimus to hear. He had asked Starscream to open his field out to him during their session, to allow him to determine the effects his actions had. It was much more insightful than relying on Starscream’s words and tones alone. Optimus had learnt that his mate would often say one thing but mean another – an unfortunate habit from his Decepticon time.

Continuing his tender squeezes, Optimus pulsed his own field. “I prefer gentle,” he soothed, feeling a spike of pleasure through Starscream’s. 

“Sappy Prime,” Starscream griped, however his manner and tone were nothing but content. His frame, though charged with tame pleasures, was malleable and receptive in the Autobot’s hands.

“You knew what you were signing up for,” Optimus teased, modulating his tone to a specific, smooth rumble, the precise pitch that he knew Starscream derived pleasure from.

Starscream shuddered in his servos. It fascinated Optimus to know his voice alone produced such a reaction from his mate, and wondered whether their growing bond had made Starscream susceptible to it. If that was the case, what was the equivalent for Optimus? He was excited to discover it, whenever and whatever it might be.

His fingers were now edging their way along the Seeker’s cockpit, fingering at the red vents nestled by the lateral cables.

A vocal noise fled from Starscream’s vocalizer and he rolled his head again, optics clenched shut. Wings fluttered in anticipation.

Optimus shifted up onto his knees, planting a supporting servo by his Seeker’s own. His stature didn’t require him to move closer to reach the entirety of his mate, but he needed to be closer, he wanted to feel the proximity within his field. On impulse, he leaned down and tenderly pressed his own crest to Starscream’s. The Seeker’s movements ceased as he pushed into the touch, until Optimus continued his wicked fingers and his lithe frame bowed.

“You’re beautiful,” Optimus rumbled.

Another shiver coursed through Starscream. “I know.”

Optimus hummed a chuckle. Starscream would always be Starscream. He closed his own optics as he continued to press their helms together, feeling his way around Starscream’s side, finding the edges of his spinal struts. He traced them lovingly for a few moments, feeling Starscream rock into the motions slowly. He felt and heard the wings shudder in expectation yet again, waiting their turn, but instead of bestowing them with attention, Optimus turned his servo back and slid his palm along the front of the chassis.

Starscream half growled and half groaned, butting Optimus’ crest. “Slagger,” he cursed without much bite.

Optimus nuzzled him and continued with his trail, exploring the chest plate, following it around under the arm joint. Starscream field was enveloping him, and the closer the touches came to his wings the more excitement buzzed through it. Optimus felt a bloom of endearment flare through his own. His Seeker’s wings were beginning to become as important to him as they were to Starscream. 

He sent his servos tickling the back of the chassis plating, retreating to the underside of the shoulder joint. Starscream wriggled, letting loose an unintentional noise of surprise. Hmm, a hidden sensitive spot. Optimus filed that away.

“You’re more ruthless than you would have anyone believe,” Starscream drawled playfully.

“Only for you,” the Prime murmured against his lips. With his optics still closed, he felt the response in Starscream field more acutely.

He drew back his wandering servo and trailed it higher, finding the Seeker’s smooth neck cabling. They felt warm as he fingered across them gently. An index digit traced a line up and down the forefront throat slat, lovingly ghosting along the smooth metal. Optimus felt the deglutition action work beneath his caress, the lulling treatment trigging Starscream’s reflex. Again, the flicker of dominance curled briefly inside him before he banished it.

He realized then that Starscream’s field had altered slightly. His arousal and pleasure were still strong, still climbing slowly higher, but the soothing strokes to his neck cabling had eased the stiffness from his frame, calmed the excited agitation. He radiated _contentment_ below Optimus. _At_ Optimus.

Optimus trailed his fingers along Starscream’s facial fans, pushing contentment back through his field. Starscream’s metal, all of his plating, was different to the touch, dissimilar to Optimus and his Autobots. His flight frame was constructed of lighter material and as such felt pleasantly refreshing. It was a tactile enjoyment the Prime would never tire of. He nuzzled his mate’s helm as he stroked a thumb across the Seeker’s face plates.

Starscream trilled.

Optimus’ optics flew open, and below him so did Starscream’s. They stared at each other.

A surprised and delighted smile tugged at Optimus’ lip. “Was that… Seeker dialect?”

Starscream’s wide optics looked comical. He relaxed them, blinking. “I haven’t done that in a long time…”

“What did it mean?”

“Nothing, it’s just a silly noise,” Starscream dismissed much too quickly, and far less convincingly.

Optimus lifted his crest from Starscream’s, locking their gazes. He tried to rein back his burning curiosity – because he had never been more curious of anything in his existence – but it ebbed though his field, regardless.

Starscream stared back stubbornly. “It’s just a frivolous noise,” he tried, his contented field drawing back. But it was too late, embarrassment radiated from him before he could conceal it.

Optimus could see he had some convincing to do. “It was a beautiful sound. Will you do it again?”

His request drew a surprised openness to Starscream’s face. “What? No – I don’t just _do_ it on demand.”

“Then,” Optimus began, reserving his calm and loving field, “tell me how to coax it from you once again,” he rumbled, employing his soothing tone. He repeated his thumb across Starscream’s face and, because he knew it would settle him, closed his optics and returned his helm to where it was pressed to Starscream’s.

The Seeker’s field remained unchanged in the moments following, until the tightness dissipated and he relaxed again. “It’s not something to explain,” he finally said. “But if you must know, _you_ were the cause.”

Optimus paused, contemplating his words. An assumption occurred to him. He brightened his field and felt Starscream’s respond, sending his free hand away from the Seeker’s face and finally to his wing. Starscream hummed his approval as the Prime drew all five digits in a gentle rake down the expanse.

“Finally,” Starscream moaned, pressing into both hand and helm.

Optimus pushed back and flattened his palm, stroking warm, broad rubs across the flight appendage, repeating his actions along the plane of metal he knew was just shy of Starscream’s erogenous zones. He knew Starscream’s wings well, and it wasn’t necessary for him to explore them further in this session, but he would lavish them with attention later, regardless. For now, he peeked open his optics. Starscream had again closed his. Optimus looked to his right. He drew his palm along the wing to the Seeker’s clawed servo, gently trailing his fingertips down the slender wrist.

Enjoyment bordering on pleasure and affection rose from Starscream as Optimus offlined his vision again, feeling his way back up to the heel of the palm. He ghosted over the contours, drawing tender circles into the servo. It was an intimate gesture. 

Starscream uttered an incoherent noise, nuzzling against the Prime in reciprocation. A moment later he trilled again.

Affection burst from Optimus’ field. He didn’t stop tracing lines even as he felt the Seeker pause again.

Yes, Optimus realized, _he was_ the cause; Starscream was projecting happiness. 

Seekers trilled when they were happy.

Optimus nuzzled once more, sliding his fingers into Starscream’s talons, intertwining their digits. Starscream closed around them, and as the Prime rumbled his engines deliberately, rolling out the vibrations, the Seeker surprised him once more by responding with a quieter, but no less heard, warble. 

Optimus had never heard anything so wonderful.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fowler is is not happy with Starscream's lack of discretion over Jasper, prompting Optimus to ask why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may... sorta... be starting to think of peppering in episode plots. I'll see how disastrous that turns out since it's around 1 year and 7 months on from when they should have occurred.

“Here’s one,” Rafael declared happily, jabbing the keyboard on his laptop.

Fowler leaned over the back of the couch to see the enlarged image. He scowled at it, shaking his head in disapproval as Miko dropped onto the seat next to Raf.

“That’s a pretty clear pic,” she stated brightly. “He doesn’t look like an F-16 Fighter Falcor at all.”

Fowler rolled his eyes. “Fighting _Falcon_ ,” he corrected, standing straight. “And no, from that distance anyone can tell it’s not one of ours. Raf, get rid of it before it causes any more conspiracy threads. Bryce will _not_ be happy if he finds out.” He folded his arms and propped a hip on the couch back, fuming. “I thought the hothead Wrecker was bad enough, at least _he_ has a vehicle which is socially acceptable… if barely.”

“Are you grouchy because he still won’t let you ride in him?” Miko teased, kneeling in the tattered seat cushions so she could turn to smirk at him.

Before Fowler could answer, Ratchet turned from his station by their mezzanine, a servo hovering over his keypad. “As I recall it, _you’re_ the constant pester, Miko.”

Miko smiled complacently, shrugging as she slouched back into the couch. “I’m grinding him down,” she admitted freely, confidently, grabbing the TV remote. “Soon he’ll _have_ to say yes.”

“Here’s another one,” Raf announced, clicking his laptop.

Fowler growled. 

The roar of a large engine pulled into the silo from the entrance tunnel, drawing louder until Optimu’s truck mode appeared. He transformed just past the threshold.

“Prime,” Fowler called, allowing him a generous second to complete transformation. “I think you need to have another word with our ‘Con about his _flying_ limits.”

Optimus approached them all, looking down on the humans’ level. “Starscream is no longer a Decepticon, Agent Fowler,” he reminded, with the practiced patience of one who had repeated himself multiple times. “What is the problem?”

Fowler gestured to Rafael working on his laptop. “He was caught on camera _twice_ , in Jasper no less. In both images he was _so low_ they managed to get a pretty decent clarity of him! This is irresponsible!”

Optimus watched as Rafael enlarged the image he was currently in the process of deleting. It was, indeed, a fairly clear picture. There was very little motion blur, which meant Starscream had been hovering or cruising at slow speeds. Something he had been restricted to do over human population. Hmm.

“I will have words with him,” Optimus informed, straightening back up.

Ratchet caught his optic. “He wouldn’t usually approach human settlements,” he began with a meaningful tone. He was not so quick to mindlessly place blame. “Something caught his attention.”

Optimus was thinking the same thing.

“I don’t care what caught his attention!” Fowler snapped. “I can’t have an alien jet posing for pictures, especially when Bryce is _still_ chewing my ass about an ex-Decepticon on the team! He’ll just be looking for a reason to test that new holding cell.”

Optimus made a disapproving noise. He was still displeased by this supposed ‘security’ measure, even more so that Bryce had forbidden Fowler to disclose its existence – whom had immediately done just that. The fact it had commenced construction shortly after Fowler had informed his superiors of Starscream’s new allegiance was not overlooked. General Bryce may claim human kind had every right to defend itself, and in doing so justify the somewhat ambiguous scheme of a Cybertronian-sized containment cell, but Optimus did not believe him. There had been many discussions on this, and was ultimately the main reason Optimus had decided against a formal introduction between Bryce and Starscream. Considering Fowler had gained orders to watch and report on Starscream’s actions further troubled Optimus. The general seemed a little too interested in their Seeker.

“He’s incoming,” Ratchet announced, activating the groundbridge. 

The portal stretched open, humming throughout the base, and a few seconds later Starscream’s jet pulled to a rapid halt just shy of the levels opposite. He had never hit them yet, despite the speeds he arrived at. Starscream transformed, landing with a graceful flip.

“You!” Fowler called immediately. Optimus had to commend him for his tenacity, at least.

Starscream’s optics sought him out and he stepped over, passing Optimus a quick glance. “Agent Fowler,” he drawled with false pleasantness. “You do seem to enjoy spending time here, don’t you?” He smirked, hooking an arm over the railing and leaning on the mezzanine.

“No thanks to you and your insubordination,” Fowler stated, storming closer. Even despite the… bad air, between them, Fowler was never lacking in brass. “Explain!” He demanded, pointing to Rafael’s laptop.

Starscream’s red optics slid over to the little device, recognizing his own image there. His smirk faded a little and he turned his gaze to Optimus’. “I was commed,” he started coolly. “By Knockout.”

Optimus’ gaze sharpened. “Knockout was in Jasper? Did you scan for other Decepticons?”

“Yes, there were none,” Starscream replied. “He was off on one of his little joy rides when I detected him, and he me. For security precautions he didn’t want talk over comms, so I approached.” He waved his servo dismissively, explaining away his reason for his disobedience.

“Knockout’ll totally snitch on you to Megatron!” Miko hung over the edge of the couch, gripping it hard.

“No,” Starscream disagreed, looking at Optimus, wings still and serious. “Knockout and I were never what you would call _friends_ , but he wouldn’t betray me to Megatron.”

“How can you be sure?” Ratchet asked, his optics hard. “You’ve changed in the time away from the Decepticons, what makes you think he hasn’t?”

Starscream fixed him with a look. “I haven’t _changed_ ,” he scoffed, wings twitching. “And neither has Knockout. He’ll always lookout for number one, but betraying me wouldn’t gain him anything. All he’d have is a sighting location and he’d get the slag beaten out of him for failing to alert Megatron.”

“What did he want?” Optimus questioned, his focus completely on the Seeker.

Starscream waved his digits airily, not completely oblivious to Fowler leaning back warily. “To tell me Megatron wants me alive. Nothing new.”

“That’s it?” Ratchet asked, one optic narrowed.

“He didn’t have time to _regale_ me with the latest Nemesis drama,” Starscream droned satirically.

Ratchet adopted a stern expression. He was not amused.

“Well next time, do it more discreetly,” Fowler folded his arms, anger subsiding. “Need I remind you, Earth jets don’t _hover_.”

Starscream straightened, shooting a leer in his direction. “Earth jets don’t do a lot of things I can.” He started to sauntered away.

“Hey, Starscream, you’re gonna need someone with you next time as backup!” Miko said after him.

“Dream on, fleshy,” he called over his pauldron. He disappeared into the silo.

“When does his Autobot attitude kick in?” Fowler asked rhetorically. 

“Unfortunately, Starscream will always be Starscream,” Ratchet turned away to his monitors, working on his latest project.

Optimus stared after his mate, thoughts circling his processor. He heard Fowler mutter about omitting this from his report to Bryce, as well as Knockout’s sighting. Excusing himself, Optimus followed the Seeker’s trail around into the wash racks. He knocked out of habit and permitted himself in. Starscream was already under the solvent, washing off the dessert air. He disliked the area, dirt particles clung to the air and as a consequence he was often in the wash racks after a flight.

“Come to join me?” He teased, flapping his wings.

Optimus allowed the door to slide shut before speaking. “What else did Knockout tell you?”

There was the slightest pause in Starscream actions, passing in the blink of an optic, but Optimus saw. The Seeker turned around under the shower, looking up into the spray. 

“Nothing of importance. Knockout loves to hear himself talk.”

“Starscream.”

The wings dipped before he could catch them; that tone always provoked some sort of twitch. Irritation started to bleed into Starscream’s frame. “He was just warning me,” he answered shortly, his playfulness gone. He turned his back on the Autobot. “Leave it.”

Optimus approached. Starscream withdrew his field with every step, astutely aware of his mate’s proximity when the Prime came to a halt beside him. The solvent caught him, drenching him as he slid a servo down to Starscream’s, brought it up and pressed it to his own chassis. Starscream found himself watching as his talons were enveloped by wider servos, solvent sluiced around them, welling among their digits. The other servo tipped his chin up.

“Starscream,” Optimus rumbled softly.

For a few moments longer the Seeker remained defiant. “You know whatever I say it will not make you happy,” he stated, warningly. “You don’t _need_ to know.”

Optimus’ blue optics flittered between his mate’s. He brushed a thumb tenderly over Starscream’s chin. “That is a matter of opinion,” he said.

The Seeker’s lip plats quirked and his brows leveled in a set expression, but he relented. “It seems Megatron has been preparing for my capture. He has constructed a brig cell just for me.” Starscream paused for effect. “’Cell’ is too generous, it sounds more like a box. Apparently it’s just big enough to stuff me in there. No bars. No windows. Just walls.”

Optimus’ face remained collected, calm, but his field twitched with restrained anger and concern. Seekers did not do well in enclosed areas. A cramped box would be torturous. 

It could break him.

“He also asked Knockout how long I would function after my wings have been ripped off.”

Optimus’ faceplate did change, his brow rose high in alarm.

“Dear Megatron doesn’t want me bleeding out while he’s torturing me,” Starscream drawled, forcing nonchalance. “The good doctor was forced to tell him I wouldn’t last long, sadly. Unless he clamped my main energon lines, but shock is still a very real threat.” He spoke so casually, anyone would be fooled by his composed act. “He did reassure me that Megatron seemed unwilling to exterminate the last of the Seekers, though,” he added, as though this spit of news made up for the rest. “Thus, he’s forced to be creative with his punishments.”

Optimus was appalled. Anger, fear and concern raged through him and it was all he could do to conceal them. He rarely experienced such raw emotions, but it seemed not even the Matrix could contain what he felt for his mate. He restrained his field and reaffixed his focus on Starscream, cupping his chin more fully, as though holding him might protect him. “He may plan all he likes,” Optimus enunciated, his deep voice low and resolute, heavy with promise. “But he will never again lay his servos on you.”

Something flashed across Starscream’s faceplate, something that wasn’t the confident, comforted glimpse the Prime hoped for. 

“Megatron always finds me.”

Optimus’s spark twisted painfully. Starscream’s tone cut him deep, laced with eons of painful experience. “Not this time,” he assured softly, working his thumb back and forth across Starscream’s faceplate. “You are not alone anymore, Starscream. I will never leave you. I will never forsake you. I will _always_ protect you.”

The Seeker’s optics slid shut and he leaned into the Prime’s touch, as though he could feel the conviction through the contact of their metal. He needed it, yearned for it, for such reassurance. But something wavered in his field, something Optimus greatly wanted to chase away. 

He bent down, pressing his crest to Starscream’s, and brought his other servo to rest across the Seeker’s spark. It thrummed steadily beneath his palm, calm despite the topic, reassuring to the Prime. After a few seconds, a clawed servo rose to Optimus’ own spark.

“I am the fastest Seeker,” Starscream said into their quiet. “He has no hope of catching me in the air.”

“That is your advantage,” Optimus said slowly. “But one that Megatron knows. He will adjust his tactics, and eliminate your chance to fly. We must prepare for such strategies.”

Starscream nodded into his palm, just barely. “We must also prepare for the chance of my capture.”

The words alone sent a cold chill to clutch at his spark. “Yes.” Optimus agreed.

The silence crowded around them, hanging the somber issue above their helms until Starscream butted his crest against his mate’s.

“My wings are in need of some attention.”

A small smile fought its way onto Optimus’ lip plates. “Then you’d best turn around.”

“You should lock the door. I might be loud,” Starscream purred as he stepped out of Optimus’ servos and made a showy 180. His wings fluttered invitingly.

“Let’s not give the children any reason to come investigate,” the Prime told him affectionately, already palming the jet’s thruster casing before he had completely rotated. He sent his servos gliding across the metal, working the downpour of solvent onto the expanse of Starscream’s wings, paying initial attention to his join ruts.

Starscream bowed into him, biting off a groan as it bubbled up from his vocalizer. His own servos reached for the wall, preparing for the charge that was sure to enervate him.

“Sorry to interrupt whatever it is I hope you’re not doing,” came Ratchet’s voice over their comms. They both froze, displeased by the interruption. “But it seems we have a situation.”

“We will be out shortly,” Optimus responded, ending the line.

“Ratchet chooses his bad timing deliberately, I’m sure,” Starscream said sullenly. 

“It seems we must indulge later,” Optimus pressed an apologetic nuzzle into the Seeker’s right wing. He stepped from the solvent spray towards the air distributor. It activated to his proximity as Starscream turned off the solvent and joined him, wings dispelling droplets with sharp twitches.

“I look forward to later, then,” Starscream remarked with a suggestive smirk.

Optimus smiled at him.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the lead on a red energon sighting, Optimus and Starscream are forced to handle a little more than a retrieval operation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uni has finished until September, and now I can finally continue updating- wooo! I did miss this story, and I'm sorry for the length of time taken to update it. I've been writing bits here and there, but nothing had been publishable. 
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter takes place immediately after the last.

“Ratchet, what is the situation?”

The medic spared both Prime and Seeker a glance before directing his gaze, and theirs, to the console screens. There on the display was a fuzzy image of a dig site in a similar, rocky area to Nevada. Large machines encircled a clearing, and sat in the middle was the unmistakable sight of –

“Red energon,” Starscream recognized, a hint of surprise in his tone. He came to a halt alongside Optimus, optics glued to the picture.

Ratchet turned back to them. “But how it wound up here on Earth I do not know.”

“From where has this image originated?” Optimus asked.

“I found it on the internet,” Rafael supplied from the couch. Miko now leaned on the arm rest beside him, glancing from laptop to console screen as Fowler observed from the other arm. “What’s red energon?”

“An extremely rare and volatile form of energon,” Ratchet told Raf, glancing at him. “W –”

“When it is refined into fuel it provides the power of hyper speed,” Starscream cut across, wings lifting with interest as his gaze remained steady on the image. “Megatron sought red energon tenaciously before and after the exodus, assigning me and my energon seekers the task of finding it.” He paused, wings flicking. Optimus watched him patiently, reading his nuances. “We recovered only sparse fragments, even with its unique energy signature. But Megatron used what little we found inventively. It would be disastrous if this cluster ever fell into his possession.”

Optimus turned his optics to the mezzanine. “Agent Fowler, please see to it that the dig site is evacuated and the red energon left untouched.”

Fowler was already dialing on his cell phone. “On it.”

“Starscream and I will retrieve it.”

Said Seeker looked at him, allowing a faint smirk to flicker across his face plate. Optimus very nearly mirrored him; last time they had worked alone together they had delayed their return, and found themselves behaving like a couple of young sparks stealing forbidden moments of intimacy. Optimus couldn’t recall the last time he had felt even the slightest bit of exhilaration. Starscream was certainly teaching him some mischievous behavior.

“It’s been shipped to the area’s dock,” Fowler began, regaining their attention as he stowed away his phone. “They are evacuating the area now after I fed them some radiation BS, and told them the proper containment unit would handle it.”

Starscream shifted weight from one pede to the other. “’BS’. That is the human abbreviation for the profanity bull sh – ?”

“ _Not_ in front of the children,” Optimus chided him, sliding a look at the smirking Seeker.

“Pft, we’ve heard it all before,” Miko waved a dismissive hand. “And besides, _I’m_ not a child. I’m nearly seventeen years old!”

Ratchet turned from his console into the conversation. “I’ve input the coordinates for the groundbridge. It would be best to obtain the red energon quickly, should the Decepticons pick up the signal, too.”

Optimus nodded. “Then let us be off.”

A portal yawned open within seconds, and together Prime and Seeker disappeared through – reemerging with a loud – and not so loud – thud as they landed in the middle of a shipping containment yard. The noise of the groundbridge ceased as it deactivated, and the sound of lapping water filled the void. Optimus observed their surroundings, and in the dusky light of the setting sun he caught the glow of the red energon. It hung suspended in a crate from a crane structure, glowing noticeably.

“The humans must have been preparing to transfer it to a cargo ship when they received his evacuation order,” Optimus assumed as he came to a halt beneath it.

“That’s quite a climb for you,” Starscream remarked, another of his smirks pulling at his face plates.

The Prime needed only to look at him.

Starscream’s lips tugged wider, and he transformed with a graceful jump. “It would be too easy to wrap this up so quickly,” he called as he rose towards the crate. He unfolded with a flip and landed precariously on the top, gripping the cable to steady himself as his weight set off a pendulum sway. “We have plenty of time for ourselves once we secure this.” He threw a suggestive look down at his mate, fluttering his wings to seal the deal.

Optimus fought a smile threatening to break free. Primus save him from this horny Seeker. With every stolen moment together, their intimacy increased, and Optimus felt himself growing more inclined to share with Starscream what he so clearly wanted. Or, as Ratchet had put it, what he so clearly needed. But what Starscream seemed to expect of their eventual bonding, Optimus wanted to bestow him otherwise. Not a quick, necessary interface merely for release, but a meaningful connection.

The sound of blaster fire splitting the air drew a start from Optimus – and he watched in alarm as a red blur punched into Starscream’s chassis, ejecting him from the crate in a trail of smoke.

Optimus leapt forward and caught him, his spark spinning so fast he felt it churning. The shot had smoldered Starscream’s plating but thankfully missed anything vital. Energon trickled from the wound nonetheless, and he growled in pain and disorientation.

“Good catch.”

Optimus’ gaze snapped to the attacker as reflexes triggered his motor functions, and he leaped back as a mass of webbing spat at him. He was not so quick to dodge the second, and Starscream fell from his grip as he was forced to the ground. His arms were immediately bound, glued to the tarmac.

“Well, well,” Airachnid drawled, revealing herself from the shadows. Her purple optics gleamed ominously in the dark lighting. “Seems I have found quite the bounty.” 

Starscream rose to his pedes, concealing a grimace of pain as a fresh dribble of energon stained his plating. “You wretched, eight-legged –!”

He was pinned to the ground forcefully, seized by a blanket of strong, sticky webbing. His talons clenched futilely, too restricted to aim his missiles.

Airachnid leaped, all eight legs straddling the Seeker as she gazed down at him smugly. “Imagine my surprise, while following a strange reading, that I would come across Prime and the infamous Decepticon traitor.” She leaned closer, lip plates curling. “Megatron would reward me _handsomely_ for delivering you both.”

Optimus’ spark spasmed in dread and he strained again his bonds. They held fast. “Airachnid,” he growled loudly, gaining her attention. “Megatron would reward you nothing for our capture. Your efforts would be in vain. Release us, and we will offer you a generous supply of energon in return.”

Airachnid tilted her head at his offer. Optimus mentally urged her to take it. Starscream had suggested the best tactic against any Decepticon would be to appeal to their greed. Energon was the main currency, and rations were acceptable at best aboard the Nemesis. They would be enticed by it at the very least.

The Decepticon’s smile widened. A chuckle broke the ensuing silence, escalating into a bark of laughter. “Yes, you must be wealthy by now, with your own little Energon Seeker,” she shot Starscream a glance. He glared back. “But I have no interest in bartering your freedom, nor do I intend to offer either of you to Megatron.”

“If you intend to prattle much longer we might just terminate of _boredom_ ,” Starscream snapped. 

Airachnid chuckled again, amused. She dipped lower to meet his optic. “Oh, it won’t be boredom by which you meet your end, Starscream.” She drew a mockingly tender digit along his facial fans. Optimus began working against his bonds, wriggling his arm loose, unnerved by her attention on his mate. She didn’t notice his silent efforts. “Do you know what my hobby was before I was forced back into the Decepticons? Hm?”

“I couldn’t care less about your hobbies,” Starscream spat, visibly straining against the strength of the webbing.

But Optimus froze. He remembered what Arcee and Jack had informed him after their encounter two years ago…

Unfazed, Airachnid continued. “I’ve decided to take it back up again,” she said conversationally. “The Decepticons are a temporary situation until I take my leave of this pitiful planet.” She paused, and in the space of a second her expression shifted into something cruel, something malicious, and a dark smile twisted her lip plates. She gripped Starscream’s face tightly. “I collected the heads of endangered species, _near_ -extinct species, you might say.” Her optics bored into his as she awaited his reaction. “And _you_ , my dear Starscream, are a very endangered species, the last of Cybertron’s Seekers.”

Starscream’s optics widened and his wingers quivered under their bonds. “Megatron wants me alive,” he hissed quickly.

“Megatron won’t know,” she smiled.

“ _Airachnid_ ,” Optimus thundered, surprising both of them. Rage and fear fought inside him, protective coding urged him to _move_. But he had weakened the bonds of one arm, and he couldn’t risk her noticing. “You are foolish if you think to betray Megatron while you have no means of escape from this planet.”

“No means, _yet_ ,” she corrected him. “My little Jack may have blown my ship into a burning inferno, but not everything was destroyed.” She turned her gaze back down to Starscream. “And I look forward to my first trophy.” Her optics slid up. “Those wings would make a _fine_ decoration.”

Fury gave Optimus the final strength needed to rip his right arm free. He swung his transforming blaster to the startled Decepticon and fired, catching her shoulder as she reeled back just a split second too slowly.

“Argh!” She snarled, raising her own weapon – but Optimus unleased a volley of shots, forcing her away, allowing her no reprieve. Just before she disappeared into the maze of containers, Optimus clipped her once again, provoking a pained, enraged cry that echoed from the metal around them. Spots of blue energon glowed in the shadow of her escape.

Optimus wrenched the tough webbing from the rest of his frame, weapon still poised, battle protocols on high alert. He edged over to Starscream, his optics trained on the darkness for any movement. She was still there. He sensed her.

She was stalking them.

“Get me out of this disgusting mess,” Starscream grunted as he attempted to pull himself free.

Optimus stepped closer, bending down to rid his mate of the sticky webbing. 

But she had been watching.

Several blasts erupted from the darkness to his left, forcing him to twist away just in time. So close was the last, it shaved the paint from his chest plate.

He had already returned fire, but her tormenting laughter reverberated around them, and he adjusted his weapons to follow her assumed location. He hadn’t realized the protective position he had taken up over Starscream until part of his processor advised him to move: He was the current target, and he was standing over his mate. Another part could not leave him; at least he provided a moving shield.

“I must say, I am surprised,” came her voice from no one direction. “Starscream is not a compatible member of any faction, let alone the soft-sparked Autobots.” Amusement peppered her words. “He will betray you. His lust for power will not be quenched.”

Optimus shifted his aim, his optics flittering around for any sign of movement. He slowly unsheathed his left blade, but the sound was piercing in the crowding silence.

“I’m curious what it is you have that tempts him to stay,” she continued, seemingly speaking from everywhere. “Because clearly you are not winning this war.”

As Optimus drew back his blade to cut Starscream free, she released a barrage of shots from behind him. He flattened himself against ground and Seeker as the charge burned the air, scorching a line across his pipes. 

Enough of this play! He swiped at the webbing with a single swing, cutting Starscream free, and shot to his pedes just as she fired again, relentless in her assault. 

As Starscream was rising, Optimus shoved him back down, throwing his frame across that of his partner’s. He grunted in pain as a shot connected, sharp and agonizing.

“Optimus?” Starscream barked from beneath him, an edge of concern fringing his voice. He transformed his blaster and squeezed off several wild shots beyond the Prime, hopefully buying them time as they collected their limbs and found their balance. Optimus bled profusely from the wound on his back, but he remained strong.

“Curious…” Airachnid’s voice echoed. But the humor in her tone had been replaced with something else.

“Enough of these games, you pit-stain, piece of slag,” Starscream snarled. His frame folded into transformation quickly, and before Optimus could argue, he had taken to the air.

“Starscream!”

But no sooner had he gained altitude did the hidden Decepticon begin laying down fire – and consequently giving away her position.

Optimus narrowed his optics and stormed forward, bursting around a corridor of containers to open fire upon a startled Airachnid. Two hits collided, tearing into her armor. Energon splattered the nearest container.

She bellowed in pain and anger and skittered back into the safety of the maze. Optimus took chase, thundering after, but lost sight of her quickly.

The sound of a missile tearing through the air preceded an explosion some rows away. The burst was so bright in the dark night that he was forced to look away momentarily, his audials ringing from the sound blast. Starscream had increased the yield of his missiles not too long ago, and they delivered _quite_ a punch.

The Seeker hovered some distance away, difficult to spot against the dark sky. “She’s still on the move,” he said over comms. “I’m detecting her spilled energon leading away.”

Optimus began moving forward, around the burning containers. “Remain in visual contact,” he answered, swallowing the urge to order Starscream away entirely. He edged back into the darkness, stepping from the light of the flickering fire, and cast a glance up at where the silhouette of his mate glided. Airachnid unnerved Optimus, for she was unpredictable and sadistic even more so than most Decepticons. For her to set her sights on Starscream was both frightening and questioning. Starscream was notoriously difficult to terminate, as history had proven, and their mutual hatred to one another meant he would not be an easy prey. Did she harbor so much spite that she would see him dead regardless?

A few minutes of careful, quiet moving through the endless containers, Starscream halted them both.

“Wait,” he ordered. Optimus glanced up at him. “The pattern of energon is not right…” He paused a moment more. “I think she’s leading us away.”

Optimus pondered all of a second. “From the red energon.” He realized. “We must return quickly, but stay – Starscream!”

The jet was already engaging his thrusters, rapidly gaining distance. “We don’t have the time to stay together,” he announced over their comms. “I can deal with her.”

“Starscream, remain in my sight!”

“I’m not losing that red energon!”

Optimus broke into a run. With Starscream out his sight, fear returned to his circuits, feeding his speed, increasing his sparkrate. He knew protective coding was responsible, it was a constant in his life now and he had to learn to balance it. But Starscream surely didn’t help by pulling these stunts.

His spark almost leapt from its chamber at the sound of open fire. What followed after was a deafening explosion that shook the ground and disrupted the air. Optimus caught the edge of a container to steady himself. A plume of smoke and fire rose above the shadows ahead of him, reaching up into the sky. Optimus launched himself forward again.

“Starscream,” he called into his comms. He waited, running full speed, careless of his noise. “ _Starscream_.”

A grunt responded through the line. “Ngh, that blast was unexpectedly wider than anticipated.”

“Are you damaged? Where is Airachnid?”

“Calm yourself. I still function,” the Seeker snarked. “She was on the crate when I fired. Hopefully dead. Careful that you don’t trip over her flayed corpse in your haste.”

Optimus resisted the urge to shake his head in vexation. 

When he emerged from the sea of containers into the burning clearing, where the crane structure now lay in a wrangled mess, he panned his gaze across the destruction. He saw neither of his targets, but he felt Starscream’s presence through the resonation of their courting bond. He followed it, through the heat of the fire and around twisted metal beams. Starscream emerged from the fiery haze in his root mode. One wing had been noticeable singed, but he looked otherwise unscathed. Optimus hoped the same could not be said for Airachnid.

“We must find what remains of the red energon,” He instructed. “If any.”

Starscream’s good wing flicked at an angle, and he jutted his chin. “This way.”

“Be on your guard.”

Starscream’s wing flicked again, but this motion was in petulance. He didn’t like to be reminded of caution. He had served in close proximity to Megatron; caution was ingrained.

They found the crate, dinted and burnt, and a short distance away laid remains of the red energon. Starscream picked it up. It was substantially smaller than it had been originally.

“I don’t sense any more.” Starscream paused. His optics landed on something further away, and Optimus followed his gaze. A few drops of blue energon shone amidst the fierce flames. No, not a few drops. A trail. “We will no doubt see the wretch again.”

Optimus’s gaze darkened. Airachnid had in all likelihood fled with her injuries. “We should return to base.” He activated a comm channel. “Ratchet, please provide a groundbridge.”

“Acknowledged,” came the medic’s reply.

Barely a few seconds later, the portal reopened exactly where it had been previously. The fire nearby stretched towards the air current, as though pointing the two mechs to safety.

The transportation from the vivid heat to the cool air of the silo was a welcome one. The portal closed behind as they both stepped from the groundbridge strip.

“Whoa,” Miko exclaimed, jogging to the edge of the mezzanine to get a better look. “What happened to you two?”

Ratchet eyed them up, a look of steeled concern flashing across his face. He took the red energon from Optimus, so it wouldn’t interfere, and ran a scan across him. “A Decepticon encounter?”

“Airachnid,” Optimus confirmed, standing still for their medic to assess his damage. Energon still trickled from the plating on his back, and now his focus was no longer scattered, the pain flared up to remind him. He turned his optics on Starscream as the jet began moving away, halting him with a servo on his shoulder. Wordlessly, Optimus rotated him around to inspect the bleeding wound on his chest. Starscream gave an annoyed huff but let him.

“Mostly surface damage,” Ratchet announced. “Aside from the hole in your back. I will repair you shortly.” He stepped over to Starscream, pushing Optimus’ servo from the Seeker so he could scan freely. “So what happened?”

As Starscream provided the majority of the explanation, Optimus left briefly to lock their hard-earned item in the silo’s makeshift vaults. It would remain there until they could all discuss tactical ways in which to use it. When he returned, Ratchet had relocated Starscream to the medical slab they had salvaged from the Harbinger, tending to the wound on the Seeker’s chest. Optimus halted by the berth. Miko, Raf and Fowler had situated themselves on the overlooking level, watching and listening.

“Sounds like you totally wrecked her,” Miko exclaimed, an assuming smirk on her face as she hung over the barrier. “I bet Megatron won’t be happy with her failure.”

“General Bryce won’t be happy with _us_ when he learns an entire container yard is in pieces,” Fowler retorted, however it was without bite. “It’s a helluva mess to clean up after you bots.”

“My apologies, Agent Fowler,” Optimus replied. “But it was unavoidable.” He watched Ratchet work on Starscream’s wound for a few seconds. “We have reason to believe Airachnid is constructing a space fairing vessel, and intends to leave once she can.”

Ratchet glanced at him. “Good riddance.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot let her leave Earth. She voiced her intentions to continue her collection hobby.”

The medic paused. He knew what Arcee and Jack had told them. “The collection of endangered species, if I recall.”

Optimus nodded, catching Starscream’s watching optics. “And I believe she has set her sights on Starscream…”

Ratchet’s expression shifted into alarm.

“Wait, he’s Cybertronian,” Fowler frowned, looking between them all. “Why would she go after him?”

“Even among Cyertronians there are subspecies,” Ratchet explained, applying medically charged energy to the repairing nanites around the wound. “Shuttles, Satellites, minicons, a variety of Grounders, to name a few… and of course, Seekers.”

“We were quite segregated from the rest of Cybertron before the war,” Starscream said smoothly, unaffected by the topic. “As such, we were as much a species of our own, for all our mystery.” He smirked faintly.

“It would do well, then, to make it a priority to find her ship,” Ratchet suggested, transforming his hand back as he moved his attention to the burn mark on Starscream’s wing.

Optimus nodded.

“So, what will you do with the red energon?” Rafael spoke up, lifting his bespectacled face to the Prime.

“As there is a small, limited amount, it would be wise to preserve until we have most need of it.”

“It would also be prudent to excavate the original site further,” Starscream suggested from his prone position on the berth. Ratchet was applying a colorless paste over his wing burn. “In case that cluster was part of a bigger one.”

Optimus nodded again. “A wise course of action.” He looked at the littlest – though not by much anymore – human. “Rafael, can you erase the image from the internet? Airachnid stated she had followed its energy signature, but if the Decepticons had not seen the original image, Soundwave will no doubt find it.”

“I already did,” the young human said, pushing his glasses further onto his nose. “It’s gone.”

“Thank you. We must begin searching the site immediately, in the chance Soundwave did notice it.”

Ratchet stood straight from his work. “You two are not going anywhere,” he said sternly. “At least not immediately. Send the other three when they return.”

“We are hardly flickering on the edge of termination, _doctor_ ,” Starscream sat up, injured wing bobbing experimentally.

“If either of you have to transform you’ll likely stress your injuries and tear them further,” Ratchet countered, shooing the flyer from the berth and guiding Optimus to sit down on the edge. “And I will _not_ be happy.”

“Don’t argue with Ratchet,” Miko warned, though her tone was light and tuneful, enjoying the bots squabble. “He always gets the last say.”

“Quite right,” the medic affirmed, turning his attention to Optimus’ back. The humans grinned at each other. “Go and clean up in the wash racks,” he told Starscream. “Again.”

“I’d rather wait,” Starscream gave an evocative flutter.

“ _Go_ ,” Ratchet emphasized, giving him a look.

With a huffy flick of his wings he obeyed, most likely because his energy reserves were low, and while he reveled in the arguments he could entice from Ratchet, he would mainly do so when he had a chance of winning. It was both entertaining and exhausting. Optimus felt more than saw him disappear.

“Have you guys interfaced yet?”

Ratchet and Rafael gaped at her. “Miko!” They both reprimanded.

Optimus merely raised his optic ridges.

“What in Sam Hill is an interface?” Fowler questioned, narrowing his eyes in cautious confusion, judging by the reaction it received.

“ _Not_ a topic for the children,” Ratchet said pointedly, glaring lightly at the young girl.

“Puh-lease,” Miko deliberately quoted. “We learnt about _our_ interfacing stuff years ago.”

“Yes, well, gain a few thousand years and we’ll talk,” Ratchet retorted, returning his focus to Optimus’ wound, using the same method as he did on Starscream’s. 

“I already know how you guys do it,” Miko continued, followed by a dawning “oooh” from Fowler. “Wheeljack explained it to me. At least he treats me like a grown up.”

“Regardless, it’s a private matter,” the medic reminded her, concentrating. “Just like _your_ race treats it privately.”

“But Wheeljack said Seekers were less discreet about it,” Miko pressed, tilting her head curiously. 

Ratchet paused his work and ran his free hand over his face plate as a sigh fled his intake. Optimus was quite amused.

“That is not _true_ ,” Ratchet began begrudgingly. “Not… entirely.”

In what was perhaps Ratchet’s favorite timing yet, the sound of approaching engines disrupted the conversation as the three absent Autobots returned. “Thank Primus,” he muttered. Optimus smiled.

“What happened?” Arcee was the first to unfold, approaching the designated medical area. Her optics roved over the Prime, taking in his scrapes and grime.

“Airachnid,” he answered.

Her optics darkened.

As the others joined them, Ratchet released Optimus from his care, suggesting he clean the soot from his plating.

“Go get ‘im,” Miko called cheekily before he left audial range.

“Miko,” he warned, though it lacked any weight. She pressed her lips together, trying to control her wayward grin. As he turned the corner into the silo corridors, he caught a curious Bulkhead:

“Go get who?”

Ratchet’s noise of exasperation was the last to follow Optimus into the wash rack.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream finally gets a bit of the 'action' he has been waiting for. Optimus is not disappointed, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all. I'm sorry for the delay in chapters. I'm so busy lately, but fics are always on my mind, and I'm always thinking of possible ways for this assortment of snippets to go.
> 
> Please note: I have deleted any mention of the artifacts, the characters know nothing of them yet. I decided after some thinking that I might include them later.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with it.

Two months later.

 

In the nano second of oblivion to dawning awareness, Optimus knew he was being watched. His systems booted steadily, at their usual routine pace, and sensors jumped online to inform him of a close proximity. The field that met his, however, was far from threatening, and brought a warm sensation to his spark that he had come to expect and welcome.

“You do not usually watch me while I recharge,” Optimus commented lightly, his voice deep and gentle. He onlined his optics.

Starscream’s red ones stared at him, barely a helm away. He gave a faint, indifferent motion. “Entertainment is sparse these days. Autobot life is frightfully dull.”

Optimus smiled faintly. Starscream’s weight on his left side was pleasant. Optimus would never tire of this aspect of a relationship, the comfort of touch, casual and not. “That is considered a good thing,” he assured humoredly. Starscream’s habit of referring to ‘Autobot Life’ was one he would undoubtedly keep. It didn’t bother Optimus. “It is thanks to your efforts that have kept us from many a Deception fray.”

“I knew there was a downside to being good at what I do,” the Seeker feigned despondency.

Optimus felt his smile widen. He maneuvered the arm Starscream was lounging on to curl around him, consequently pulling his mate closer. This close proximity brought a great deal of warm contentment to Optimus, and he savored the simple intimacy. He found he craved it.

“So I entertain you?” Optimus queried, pressing his helm fondly against that of his mate’s. His servo slid along a sleek thigh and rested there.

“Don’t look so complacent, you are merely something to look at,” Starscream drawled, not unkindly. He propped a servo under his chin and let the other explore the Prime’s chest plates.

“How often do you ‘look’?” Optimus injected a teasing lilt into his tone. 

Starscream’s lip plats quirked. “Don’t flatter yourself, either.”

Optimus shifted his helm so that he could properly look at the Seeker. “I am merely surprised. You don’t indulge in anything considered sentimental.”

Starscream scrunched his face plate. “I don’t consider this _sentimental_.”

Everything with Starscream was a debate, a conversation, and half the fun engaging with him was following the initial point around a great verbal circle. Optimus let his fingertips trail idly along the Seeker’s leg as he mused over his mate’s words.

“Do you enjoy watching me?” Optimus asked curiously.

His genuine question had Starscream pausing, considering his answer. The hesitation alone revealed part of what Optimus suspected.

“You are… _pleasing_ to look at,” Starscream settled on an indirect answer.

A wry feeling overcame Optimus, reflected in his small smile. “That is a considerably sentimental action.”

Starscream’s wing twitched and he scoffed. “Hardly,” he argued. “If that is what you think then I won’t watch you in future.”

Optimus found his reaction endearing. “I suddenly find myself thinking that it is not sentimental after all.”

Starscream huffed in amusement, steadying his gaze on the Autobot’s. They watched each other in comfortable silence for a few seconds before the mood within Starscream’s optics shifted. Their gazes remained locked as the Seeker slid from the loose hold, gliding a leg over the Prime’s frame to settle himself suggestively atop Optimus’ hips. Straddled, as he was, their arrays aligned enticingly.

Optimus’ plating warmed considerably, by more than just the seductive contact. Within the deep red of his partner’s optics gleamed advocated lust, and he was lost in the sensual promise they held. Starscream’s weight felt so good sat atop him, and Optimus’ systems unexpectedly singed to him; this felt right, this felt good, despite the unfamiliar sense of carnal intimacy. Somewhere in the back of Optimus’ processor his decision center flittered between two actions, unsure. But the mating bond soothed his circuits, spreading warmth through his entire frame and urging him to advance what Starscream had so obviously initiated.

Starscream, providentially, said nothing to the small hesitation, having been near desperate for physical attention since they had begun courting, avoiding any comment that might dissuade his partner. He sent ripples of encouragement through his field as large servos caressed his torso, roaming tenderly along the length of his waist as Optimus convinced himself to continue in the decidedly hotter direction this morning was heading. Starscream rocked his hips in a slow, tame repetition, feeling the warmth build within his own frame as excitement coursed alongside. Tingles followed the trail of his mate’s fingertips, and his swaying hips ground down just a little weightier, a little showier. 

Teasing curls of pleasure radiated from each sinewy movement, and Optimus was entranced by the sensual dance of Starscream’s hips. He had always been aware how attractive Starscream was, Seeker builds usually were, but as he watched with undivided attention, Optimus found himself looking upon the flight frame with new optics; Starscream wasn’t just beautiful, he was _erotic_. For the first time in a long time his interface array was heating up rapidly, and interface protocols began to activate in reaction to three different stimuli: Starscream’s visual show, the physical touches, and the encouraging lust reaching out through the Seeker’s field to activate that of his mate’s. Optimus’ systems heartily responded. He pulsed back a wave of yearning and felt Starscream’s excitement increase. Mating protocols flooded his circuits and an instinctual confidence spurred Optimus to run his servos hungrily along the Seeker’s spread thighs and halt them close to his interface array. Thumbs ventured to the inside of each thigh, teasing the seemingly increased sensitivity there. The pleasured hum that responded did things to Optimus that he felt certain he wanted to repeat. He brushed his thumbs along warming metal again, teasingly close to the Seeker’s valve panel.

“Optimus,” Starscream purred.

The Prime almost stalled, affected by that throaty tone in ways he couldn’t have expected. His fans were close to activation. Encouraged, he released one thigh in favor of trailing his fingertips across the point above Starscream’s spark, sensing the increased vibrations beneath. This was a cherishing gesture to Optimus, an action of tenderness, and Starscream knew it. A clawed servo wrapped loosely around it as the lithe frame continued to rock above him, bringing their temperatures steadily higher.

“You are beautiful,” Optimus breathed.

“I am aware,” his mate replied slyly. He reaffirmed his grip around the Prime’s servo and drew it down his frame, alluringly deliberate as he guided it to his hot panel. 

Optimus was transfixed as his fingers brushed against the metal, steered by Starscream’s own until he had set a repeating motion. Talons withdrew and Optimus watched his own wide digits tease at the panel. Starscream groaned in pleasure and grinded down harder, shivering as his fan finally activated. Barely a second later Starscream’s panel retracted, and Optimus’ fingers fell upon the wet mesh of his valve. He hesitated for a nanoclick before his interfacing protocols encouraged him to seek further. Deeper. 

A shiver traversed them both as he gently stroked, swirling his fingertip around the valve, soaking his fingers in the trickle of lubricants. Biolights lined the mesh rim, pulsing eagerly, responding to each pass around the opening. Optimus shifted to seat himself better against the wall, jostling them both, but continued his ministrations. The biolight of Starscream’s anterior node coaxed an experimental touch, immediately drawing a noise from his partner that pleased Optimus immensely. He brushed the tip of his finger repeatedly over the nub, earning him a broken gasp and a flood of arousal through his circuits. 

A prickle on his chest plating drew his focus to the talons now planted on his chassis. Starscream’s optics had closed as he concentrated on the sensation build-up, but as though sensing his partner’s gaze they opened. He smirked seductively at his mate, fluttering his wings. Optimus had learnt enough wing language to recognize the provocative motions. His fans finally clicked on.

“Optimus,” Starscream called on the end of a groan. “I’m not dainty, like your Autobots. I need to _feel_ you. _Inside me_.”

With fans kicking up a notch, and the dominant coding rearing its metaphorical head, Optimus nudged Starscream’s thigh wider, and carefully eased the tip of his finger inside. The slickness and heat that welcomed him sent a wave of intoxication through his neural net, and he briefly wondered why he had not done this sooner. The hiss of pleasure escaping his partner invigorated him, and with his own lines pounding with excitement, he slid his entire digit to the knuckle and stilled. For a moment he simply _felt_. Calipers gripped at him, rippling with excitement as finally, _finally_ , they had something to clutch at. Heat surrounded his finger alone, but it felt like it had encompassed his entire frame. He felt his own interface equipment ping for release, but dismissed the commands, reasserting his attention to the digit buried inside his mate. Lubricant trailed down his servo, pooling on his own array. It would see more added very soon.

“Nnn, do something,” Starscream moaned, shifting his hips and stirring the finger within him. Something caught, for he gasped sharply with a jolt of pleasure, and attempted to repeat it.

Optimus was only too happy to watch the Seeker pleasure himself like this, but he had no intention of observing idling. He withdrew his finger and slid back in several times, enjoying the wicked look of bliss upon Starscream’s faceplate. Curling his finger brought a beautiful whimper and a spasm as he discovered a sensor node worth exploiting. Testing the caliper’s give, Optimus slid a second digit in beside the first and was bestowed with a robust moan – which erupted into a squeal as Optimus zeroed in on that node, curling his fingers to graze it. A fresh trickle of lubricant spilled from the tight valve, and Optimus sought out new ones, pushing as deep as his digits could reach to press against the valve’s ceiling. 

Starscream was now a groaning, beautiful mess above him, rocking sporadically into Optimus’ servo, and he wanted nothing more than to release his cover, extend his spike and slide into the Seeker. But he also wanted to learn what he would be dealing with when that time came. He would not harm his mate, no matter how insistent the courting code was.

“More,” Starscream moaned, helm thrown back.

Optimus followed his instincts and started to thrust his fingers, careful as he always was, applying deliberate pressure. Charge arched from his mate’s frame, nipping his own, but it was barely felt; Optimus was far too captivated by the sight before him. The talons flexing on his chest plates pricked again.

“ _Harder_.”

Optimus complied, by only a fraction. There was no amount of demanding that could will him to apply any of his considerable strength, but it seemed what he did give was enough. A whine eked from the Seeker’s vocalizer and his frame shivered, stimulation wracking his neural net, morphing into a whimper that sung to the dominant coding in Optimus as he wiggled and curled his fingers, mapping the many nodes. The lewd sound of his fingers driving in and out of Starscream’s soaking valve was not one he’d have thought to enjoy, but Primus did he. And he could find no shame for it.

“So close,” Starscream moaned. “S-so – nnnh.”

Optimus knew then that he had found a sound even more pleasing to his audials than that of their lascivious actions. Starscream’s moans at the precipice of overload revved his engine hard, and he knew he couldn’t restrain himself for much longer.

Fortunately Starscream’s end was upon him. Grinding down desperately, wings shivering erratically, he chased his overload on Optimus’ fingers, keening until the release broke the dam and he moaned loudly, gorgeously, as he stiffened. Calipers tightened around Optimus’ fingers, clenching, rippling through Starscream’s overload as a torrent of lubricant gushed from his valve.

Optimus’ fans were roaring. He had dismissed several commands to release his spike with great effort, but knew in the next occurrence of debauchery he would be participating _much_ more fully.

Starscream came down from his high, wings lowering slowly into a sedated, relaxed position. His optics opened and drifted down to meet his partner’s as his frame sunk onto Optimus’, pinning his fingers in his valve.

“Mmmmm,” he drawled appreciatively. “It’s been a long time since I allowed anyone to do that.” He smiled, satiated, and flexed his hips. “Felt so good. You were better than expected. Now,” he began, leaning forward so he could reach back and tap Optimus’ array. “Your turn.”

Optimus was mildly surprised. But then, Seekers were known for their stamina. He grunted at the pleasurable rap to his panel and caught Starscream’s wrist with the servo that had been gripping his thigh. 

“That will have to be our only indulgence for today,” he said, quite reluctantly, though masking his tone well.

The smile faded. “You haven’t overloaded.”

“That doesn’t mean I did not enjoy it,” Optimus smiled wryly, nudging his two fingers. Starscream tensed at the sensitivity. “Next time, when we are not scheduled for energon scouting,” he promised, withdrawing his digits from the hot channel, thoroughly coated in lubricant.

“Your fans are running high and your own charge needs dispersing,” Starscream argued, somewhat mildly, no doubt the pleasant effects of his overload. “You can’t attend any duty in that state.”

Optimus considered the mess of fluids all over him. “I can certainly attend a trip to the washracks.”

Starscream set an expression on his face that could have been disappointment, confusion and suspicion rolled into one. His fans had lowered a setting, but his mood had sunk with it. Optimus realized why. As the Seeker began to push himself off, he pulled him closer, sitting up.

“Do not take my lack of overload for disinterest,” he murmured soothingly, bringing their crests together. “This was my opportunity to see you with undivided attention, to see you come undone by my hand, however inexperienced. You were beautiful.” He wrapped Starscream in his field, projecting arousal, love and enjoyment. “Next time we will join.”

A renewed flicker of desire grazed against his own field and Starscream smirked.

“Typical, romanticizing everything,” he huffed, amused.

“Only you,” Optimus replied.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day of questions and curiosity for Optimus, Ratchet and Miko.

_The next day._

 

“Do you guys know what kissing is?”

Optimus swiveled his gaze from the recent departure of his mate to the teenager leaning on the nearest mezzanine. The groundbridge closed as he considered Miko’s sudden question.

“I do not,” he confessed. “Though I have heard it in human conversation.” He turned to face her. She had grown considerably in the years of their company and her attitude, while still inherently Miko, had matured somewhat (focused as she was towards the path of a militant). Recently, she provided more interesting, sophisticated discussions, and so Optimus was mildly curious.

However, before she could reply, Ratchet spoke up, having heard her question from his station at the groundbridge controls.

“Yes,” he replied, approaching them with a knowing look towards Miko. “Though, our kind did not embrace it as collectively as your race does. It was not a common act, and only those who cared little for social conformity would do it.” He looked at Optimus. “You might never have seen or heard, but some Cybertronians, mostly the ones that explored off world and studied xenology, adopted an action from the aliens they encountered. It was known as several other terms, but I recognize it here as ‘kissing’.”

Optimus nodded in comprehension. “I have not seen this act between Cybertronians.” He looked back at Miko. “Why do you ask?”

She grinned. “Because it’s what _all_ couples do.”

Optimus frowned slightly, if more curiously. “And what exactly does it entail?” He caught the motion of Ratchet shaking his head in amusement.

Light danced in Miko’s eyes as she enthusiastically waved him to follow her, and she turned to the computer station that was unofficially deemed Raf’s. “I’ll show you, it’s probably better to see than to explain.” She dropped into the chair and accessed the customized user interface, pulling up the internet.

Optimus stepped close, peering at the small screen as she typed. He would no doubt confirm with Ratchet what this kissing meant to their kind, if and how it differed to the humans, but he couldn’t deny he was intrigued by anything that he could possibly share with Starscream. Amusing, for he would not have given any such suggestion from Miko consideration before his involvement with his mate. It often intrigued him how his relationship had changed him.

“Here,” Miko announced. “This is kissing between lovers.” She clicked the link and Optimus was granted a video of two humans engaged in, what was to Optimus, a strange act indeed. He _did_ recognize it, from the human TV shows that the kids had often watched in the silo, though at the time he had given no thought to what it meant; it had been just another strange custom he had neither time nor inclination to learn of.

Ratchet made a noise behind him, and Optimus straightened as the video displayed various forms of this kissing. It was too alien, he didn’t think Starscream or himself would accustom to that.

“Hm,” was all he said.

Miko knew that variation of noise. “It’s a really affectionate gesture,” she tried to convince him. “If some of your Cybertronians tried it, it can’t be too bad, right? I mean, they obviously enjoyed it.”

“Enjoy?” Optimus queried. He failed to see how such a gesture could provide enjoyment. 

“Well, of course!” Miko grinned again. “Why do you think it’s so popular, and not just on Earth,” she glanced at Ratchet, referring to his mention of xenology. She turned off the console. “Ask Mrs. Darby and Fowler. You’ve seen them do it.”

“Perhaps,” Optimus replied without much commitment. He didn’t understand why she seemed so actively interested in his relationship with Starscream. But then, most of the humans had expressed the same sort of curiosity. Perhaps it was to be expected, there was much the humans still didn’t know about Cybertronians; Starscream and Optimus were the first courting couple they had experienced. And humans were _incredibly_ curious.

“Y’know, for beings that are millions of years old, you guys sure don’t know a lotta stuff.”

“Miko,” Ratchet sighed, “don’t you have homework to finish?”

Her lips lined into a wry smile. “Trying to get rid of me, huh? Fine, fine, I can take a hint. Bulk’s gonna pick me up soon, so I’ll be outta your circuits.” She rose from the computer chair and made her way back to the sitting area, flopping onto the couch where her abandoned books lay scattered.

Ratchet and Optimus turned from the human levels, walking away.

“You did not express your usual flavorful comments on a such matter, Ratchet,” Optimus begun, the slightest smile edging his lip plates. “Is there more you wish to inform me of this human custom?”

Ratchet scowled mildly at Optimus’ astuteness, making his way into the silo depths to a converted chamber. It now served as a makeshift medbay, and the medic was often found tinkering with new equipment or building another.

“First, it’s not _just_ a human custom,” Ratchet replied as the door slid shut behind them. “Second…” He drifted off, looking for something to occupy his servos while he continued this conversation. “I actually agree with Miko…” His expression soured.

Optimus’ optic ridges lifted. That was a first. “This is turning out to be an interesting day, old friend,” he teased.

Scowling deeper, Ratchet transformed his arm and began welding a small device he had picked up. “Yes, well, Miko may be an inexperienced human but I do not reject her suggestion, however crude she might have gone about it.”

Optimus watched his medic closely as a thought occurred to him. “You have experienced this alien custom?”

Ratchet paused his work. “Yes. Before the war. During our early friendship orns.” He continued welding, his face lit by the flame of his tool. “I was semi-involved with another mech who found the concept intriguing. We had both heard and seen it before. To us, it was nothing more than a sub-species custom integrating into our own.” He paused again and shrugged. “Albeit, slowly. Very slowly. But… I was not averse to it. And,” he looked at Optimus. “I would not discourage you to try it, though I highly doubt Starscream will accept something that is still so foreign to our culture.”

“You might be right,” Optimus agreed lightly. But he was encouraged, however slight, by the fact that his old friend had experimented with this strange act of affection. He watched Ratchet work as a comfortable silence fell between them for a few seconds. “While I have you here, old friend, I wish to press you for wisdom on a more intimate nature.”

Ratchet ceased his work and gave his full attention respectfully. “Of course, Optimus.”

Grateful for their close friendship and Ratchet’s professional manner, the Prime chose his words as best as he could. “I wish to advance my relationship with Starscream,” he began. “Like you predicted, I am responding to the courting protocols more physically. However,” he paused a beat, “I am concerned by our size difference. I do not wish to hurt him, but his frame is… small.”

Ratchet nodded slowly, understandingly. “It was not uncommon for mechs of different sizes to seek medical advice, you are not alone in this matter, Optimus,” he reassured. “However, lucky for you, Seeker physiology is incredibly adaptive, so what efforts you undertake now will be beneficial later. And when I speak of efforts, I am referring to your need to prepare him before you two interface. Have you engaged in any interfacial activities?”

“Yes,” Optimus answered, though there was a sliver of uncertainty in his voice.

“Doesn’t always mean penetrative interfacing,” Ratchet explained, detecting his tone. “But if you’ve already experimented with each other, that’s good. You might have a better understanding for his frame durability. Seekers of Starscream’s frame _are_ small, but they are very… flexible,” he explained, deciding on his wording. “Assuming he will be receiving, you will need to stretch his calipers, the rings within the valve wall, for it to take anything beyond his dimensions.” He set his device down and folded his arms contemplatively. “I would expect Starscream himself to be able to guide you, but I do not trust that over-charged Seeker to be leveled helmed enough to take things slowly and carefully.”

Optimus nodded. “He does display impatience.”

“Exactly,” Ratchet grumbled. “ _Seekers_. Just ward him off until you are comfortable with his preparation, and don’t let him bully you into rushing things.”

The Prime smiled. “I won’t.”

“This is just as much your pleasure and enjoyment as his, don’t let him dictate everything,” Ratchet continued to advise in a somewhat command-like tone, an amicable scowl on his faceplates again. “And if he does tear, be assured he will heal quickly. It’s one of his rare qualities.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Optimus, warmed by the concern and the words. “Thank you, Ratchet.”

“If it’s the other way around, I doubt you’ll find the same obstacles, but again, don’t let him push you. Seekers were known for chasing overload after overload, just as bad as race frames.”

Well advised and informed, Optimus stepped over to the door and it slid open for him. “Thank you for you guidance, old friend. If I have any other questions I will be sure to seek your knowledge.”

Ratchet leaned forwards. “One more thing,” he called before he had disappeared. Optimus waited. “You’re quite lucky, they were also known for being _very_ good,” he grinned, a rare Ratchet grin. “Enjoy.”

A little warm under the collar plating, Optimus smiled and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to write this one pretty quickly, the writing muse is with me this time.
> 
> I love the friendship between Optimus and Ratchet and the thought of Optimus able to talk to Ratchet about anything.


End file.
